UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00022229107 


Stories  for  the  Happy  Days 
of  Christmas  Time, 


GEO.   W.  SHINN,  D.  D. 


New  York: 
THOMAS    WHITTAKER, 

Nos    a  and  3  Bible  House. 


Copyright,  i»79, 
Br  Thomas  Whit-take*. 


PREFACE. 

The  writer  of  these  stories  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  making  addresses  to  young  peo- 
ple upon  Christmas  themes.  At  length  it 
occurred  to  him  that  he  could  convey  the 
same  instruction  to  them  in  a  much  more 
agreeable  way  by  means  of  stories,  and  so 
for  some  years  past  the  Christmas  story  has 
been  one  of  the  features  of  the  Christmas- 
tide  celebrations  in  our  parish.  Some  of  the 
young  people  have  added  to  the  interest  of 
the  stories  by  illustrating  them  with  tableaux 
and  carols  as  they  have  been  read  aloud  at 
Christmas-tree  and  other  entertainments. 


PREFACE. 


And  now  the  stories  are  printed  in  the 
hope  that  they  may  add  to  the  Christmas 
joy  of  other  homes,  and  especially  of  other 
gatherings  of  young  folks  at  Christmas-tide. 


Newton,  Mass., 
Chriitmat,  1919, 


CONTENTS. 


Uncle  John's  Christmas  Party    ....  9 

The  Tramps'  Christmas  Eve 33 

The  Belated  Christmas  Guests   ....  63 

Robert  Bounce's  Christmas 83 

How  the   Crew  of  the   Sea  Gull   Spent 

Christmas  Eve 109 

Aunt  Kitty's  Christmas  Tree      ....  123 

Reuben  Reubenson's  Christmas  Eve      .     .  137 

The  Midnight  Chimes 157 

Gaining  by  Losing 173 

Pansy's  Preparations  for  Christmas    .     .191 

How  to  Illustrate  the  Stories  ....  205 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/storiesforhappydOOshin 


UNCLE  JOHN'S  CHRISTMAS  PARTY. 


y 


CHRISTMAS  PARTY.  11 

to  try.  But  perhaps  if  you  were  to  get  a 
look  at  him  you  would  have  a  better  idea 
of  his  appearance  than  my  description  can 
give  you.     [1.     See  page  207.] 

Now  this  odd  creature  had  a  sister  who 
was  equally  odd. 

She  was  a  thin,  pinched  old  body;  with 
very  white  hair,  and  a  very  pale  face. 

Her  dress  was  after  a  style  of  her  own. 
I  could  not  begin  to  describe  it,  only  I  know 
its  waist  was  up  under  her  arms  and  its 
skirt  was  very  scanty.  She  had  a  cap  with 
a  great  broad  frill  to  it,  and  wore  glasses  of 
the  same  sort  as  her  brother's,  and  always 
carried  an  umbrella  when  she  went  out.  But 
really  I  can  not  describe  her  to  you  so  as  to 
give  you  any  idea  how  she  looked.  You 
should  have  seen  Aunt  Susan  for  yourselves, 
as  her  brother  and  she  took  a  walk  together 
as  they  used  to  do,  some  of  the  pleasant 
days  at  sunset.     [2.] 

Now  this  odd  couple  lived  in  a  house  that 
was  just  as  quaint  as  they  were.  It  was 
long   and  low  and  rambling.     It  had   more 


12  UNCLE   JOHN'S 

than  seven  gables,  nine  chimneys,  plenty  of 
porches,  bird  boxes  on  every  peak  and  under 
the  eaves,  and  five  front  doors  painted  yellow. 

It  was  not  built  all  at  once,  but  it  grew  by 
degrees,  just  as  Uncle  John  took  a  fancy  to 
add  something  to  it.  No  architect  would 
plan  a  house  like  it.  Perhaps  no  one  would 
employ  an  architect  to  do  so,  although  after 
all  it  was  a  comfortable  old  place.  It  stood 
on  a  hill  and  was  surrounded  by  great  tall 
poplar-trees  that  looked  like  a  line  of  sen- 
tinels keeping  guard  over  the  place. 

Uncle  John's  lands  were  quite  extensive. 
There  was  a  broad  meadow,  and  great  fields 
for  grass  and  grain,  and  off"  to  the  north  side 
a  strip  of  woods. 

All  around  the  house  were  the  flower  gar- 
dens, where  the  most  amazing  hollyhocks, 
sunflowers,  and  marigolds  bloomed,  and  great 
beds  of  all  sorts  of  fragrant  herbs, — thyme, 
and  sweet-marjorum,  and  sage.  Aunt  Susan 
and  Uncle  John  spent  a  great  deal  of  time 
in  this  garden  in  pleasant  weather,  and  they 
evidently  considered  it  a  marvel  of  beauty. 


CHRISTMAS    PARTY.  13 

One  of  the  most  notable  things  about  Un- 
cle John  was  the  wonderful  care  he  took  of 
dumb  animals,  poor  castaways  and  outcasts 
that  no  one  else  would  have  about. 

His  barns  and  grounds  were  a  sort  of 
nursery  for  crippled  dogs  and  old  horses. 
Whenever  he  came  across  some  poor,  mis- 
erable brute  that  had  a  broken  leg,  or  that 
was  injured  in  any  way,  he  would  give  it 
shelter  until  it  got  well.  Cats  that  had  no 
home  found  a  refuge  in  his  barns.  Old 
horses  that  unfeeling  owners  had  turned 
out  on  the  roadside  to  die  were  sure  of  a 
good  stall  and  plenty  of  feed  if  Uncle  John 
only  saw  them.  The  only  bother  to  him 
was  that  he  could  not  get  rid  of  these  creat- 
ures when  they  got  better. 

There  were  as  many  as  a  dozen  dogs 
around  at  one  time.  The  cats  no  one  tried 
to  count,  and  the  horses  nearly  filled  up  all 
the  stalls  of  the  barn.  Now  and  then  he 
would  get  rid  of  a  horse  by  presenting  some 
poor  farmer  with  one  he  had  doctored  up 
until    it  was    strong   enough   to    do    a   little 


14  UNCLE   JOHN'S 

work,  but  he  never  gave  any  of  these  poor 
creatures  away  without  first  exacting  a  writ- 
ten pledge  that  its  new  owner  would  treat 
it  well. 

His  sympathy,  however,  did  not  confine 
itself  to  dumb  animals,  but  his  hired  help 
for  his  farm  and  his  house  servants  were 
almost  all  people  whom  no  one  else  could  get 
along  with.  They  were  deaf,  or  lame,  or  had 
some  infirmity  of  mind  or  of  body  that  made 
it  hard  for  them  to  live  with  any  one,  ex- 
cept Uncle  John  and  Aunt  Susan.  These 
two  good  old  people  managed  to  bear  with 
their  infirmities  and  made  them  happy. 

I  want  to  describe  some  of  the  queer  peo- 
ple Uncle  John  picked  up,  and  employed 
as  helpers.  His  cook  had  once  been  noted 
throughout  all  the  neighborhood  for  her  bad 
temper.  She  could  howl  like  a  wildcat,  and 
every  body  feared  her.  Uncle  John  once 
heard  her  in  one  of  her  stormiest  moods,  and 
was  not  contented  until  he  had  transferred 
her  to  his  own  kitchen.     She  was  just  the 


CHRISTMAS    PARTY.  15 

person  he  wanted  there,  and  by  and  by  she 
became  usually  as  gentle  as  a  lamb.  It  was 
odd  though  to  see  her  mixture  of  lamblike 
gentleness  and  tiger  ferocity.     [3.] 

There  was  old  Dickey  Diggs,  the  most 
stupid  old  creature  that  ever  wore  a  hat. 
He  wasn't  an  idiot.  He  was  only  stupid, 
blundering,  forgetful,  twisted,  absent-minded. 
He  would  sometimes  lead  the  wheelbarrow 
out  to  the  pump  to  give  it  a  drink,  thinking 
it  was  a  horse.  Once  he  was  seen  harness- 
ing himself  up  in  the  cart  while  the  sober 
donkey  stood  looking  on  amazed.  One  day 
Uncle  John  sent  him  to  grease  the  cart 
wheels,  but  by  some  twist  or  other  Dickey 
forgot  what  he  was  sent  to  do,  and  placed 
the  grease  in  the  oven,  thinking  perhaps  it 
was  a  pudding.     [4.] 

The  two  other  servants  I  Avill  describe 
were  twin  sisters  whom  Uncle  John  discov- 
ered in  one  of  his  visits  to  a  distant  city. 
They  were  unlike  in  every  particular.     One 


16  UNCLE   JOHN'S 

was  tall,  the  other  was  short.  The  motions 
of  the  tall  one  were  as  quick  as  the  wind, 
those  of  the  little  one  were  as  slow  as  a 
enaiL 

Uncle  John  took  a  fancy  to  them  because 
neither  of  them  would  be  separated  from  the 
other,  and  no  one  wanted  the  two  as  ser- 
vants, especially  as  they  found  it  hard  to 
learn  any  thing.  One  could  not  do  any 
thing  without  the  help  of  tiie  other  sister. 
Although  so  unlike,  there  was  a  singular  de- 
pendence of  one  upon  the  other  which  made 
them  inseparable.     [5.] 

Now  think  what  a  strange  household  it 
was  when  they  were  all  together.     [6.] 

When  Uncle  John  went  off  his  own  prem- 
ises, he  usually  rode  on  horseback.  Where  he 
went,  or  why  he  went,  no  one  knew.  Some 
of  the  folks  said  that  he  only  went  out  to 
see  if  he  could  find  any  old  horse  adrift,  or 
to  intercept  any  boys  who  were  on  their  way 
to  the  pond  to  drown  a  kitten.     It  was  very 


CHRISTMAS    PARTY.  17 

true  that  he  frequently  came  back  bringing 
some  trophy,  some  poor  creature,  human  or 
brute,  to  be  nursed  and  cared  for. 

Every  body  knew  him,  and  every  body 
laughed  as  his  odd  form,  mounted  on  a  great 
awkward  horse,  came  in  sight.  He  was  not 
a  very  graceful  rider,  and  his  favorite  horse 
wasn't  a  bit  graceful.  Every  one  wondered 
why  he  did  not  ride  a  better  beast,  one  with 
a  gentler  gait,  that  would  not  bump  him  up 
and  down  as  this  awkward  creature  did. 
But  he  rather  enjoyed  it,  and  so  for  years 
the  people  became  accustomed  to  seeing  him 
perched  up  on  the  tall  rump  of  the  ugly  beast. 
But  they  would  smile  at  the  ridiculous  figure 
he  cut  if  they  saw  him  twenty  times  a  day. 
No  one  could  become  indifferent  to  the  funny 
sight.  Strangers  and  residents  would  turn 
to  look  and  then  would  enjoy  a  laugh  at 
the  odd  spectacle.  Odd  enough  it  was,  for 
the  horse  beside  being  very  tall  was  very 
long,  and  his  gait  was  utterly  indescribable. 
It  was  something  between  a  trot  and  a  rolL 
He  got  over  the  ground  fast  enough,  unless 
2 


18  UNCLE   JOHN'S 

he  took  a  notion  to  stop  and  graze  along 
the  roadside  when  he  espied  some  espe- 
cially sweet-looking  grass.  On  these  occa- 
sions, and  they  were  pretty  frequent,  Uncle 
John  would  patiently  wait  until  the  beast 
was  ready  to  go  on  again.  Every  stream 
they  crossed,  the  horse  must  stop  for  a  drink, 
and  he  took  such  an  enormous  quantity 
of  water  you  would  have  thought  he  must 
surely  burst. 

Now  Uncle  John,  with  all  of  his  queer 
fancies  and  odd  surroundings,  was  the  rich- 
est man  in  the  county.  None  of  his  wealth 
had  come  to  him  by  inheritance.  He  had 
earned  it  all  by  his  own  hard  work,  and 
Aunt  Susan,  his  sister,  had  saved  it  carefully 
for  him. 

He  had  not  lived  very  long  in  the  vil- 
lage of  Elms  when  I  became  acquainted 
with  him.  He  had  come  there  from  a  dis- 
tant city,  a  retired  tea  merchant,  to  spend 
the  rest  of  his  days,  according  to  his  own 
tastes,  or  in  carrying  out  some  notions  of 
his  own. 


CHRISTMAS    TARTY.  19 

The  people  soon  learned  to  like  the  dear 
old  man  and  his  sister,  and  though  their 
appearance  always  made  mirth,  no  one  ever 
was  rude  to  them.  The  beggars  found  out 
his  generous  spirit,  and  not  one  of  them  ever 
went  hungry  from  his  doors.  There  were  no 
"tramps"  in  those  days. 

Well,  Uncle  John  soon  became  the  good 
friend  of  every  body  for  miles  around,  and 
not  a  man  or  boy  but  would  return  pleas- 
antly the  hearty  salutation  which  he  had 
for  them  all  when  he  met  them. 

Week  by  week  he  and  his  sister  would 
be  seen  going  to  the  little  chapel  in  the 
village,  and  none  were  more  devout  in  their 
worship,  or  more  respectful  hearers  than  they. 
It  is  true  their  solemn  march  up  the  side 
aisle  in  their  queer  garments  would  always 
make  people  smile,  but  then  no  one  would 
have  given  them  offence  for  a  great  deal. 
It  is  also  true  that  Uncle  John's  voice  did 
not  improve  the  singing  any  for  he  would 
always  sing  in  such  sepulchral  bass  tones 
that  they  seemed  to  come  up  from  the  cellar. 


20  UNCLE    JOHN'S 

However,  every  body  said  he  was  a  good 
man,  and  they  would  not  worry  him  by  check- 
ing his  attempts  to  be  musical. 

Well,  one  Christmas  time  about  five  years 
after  Unci/  John  and  Aunt  Susan  came  to 
live  in  our  village,  every  one  of  the  villagers 
was  surprised  to  receive  an  invitation  to  a 
Christmas  party  which  was  to  be  given  by 
Uncle  John  at  his  house,  on  the  next  night 
after  Christmas.  There  was  a  great  stir,  and 
of  course  much  wondering  as  to  what  would 
be  done,  and  how  they  would  enjoy  them- 
selves, and  how  it  would  all  end.  But  near- 
ly every  one  concluded  to  go  anyhow ;  and,  as 
it  grew  dark  on  the  day  after  Christmas,  peo- 
ple were  seen  going  in  all  directions  towards 
Uncle  John's  house.  The  wonder  is  how  the 
house  could  hold  so  many,  but  it  was  a  great 
rambling  building,  and  he  had  had  carpen- 
ters at  work  for  months  past  at  some  mys- 
terious extensions  of  which  no  one  could 
guess  the  use.  It  was  very  unlike  an  or- 
dinary   house,    for   as    they   passed    to    the 


CHRISTMAS    PARTY.  21 

upper  fluor  to  lay  aside  their  hats  and  wrap- 
pings they  saw  great  long  rooms  with  rows 
of  little  beds,  and  right  in  the  middle  was 
one  room  fitted  up  with  benches,  for  all  the 
world  like  a  chapel. 

Uncle  John  received  his  guests  in  the  great 
parlor  down-stairs,  and  made  them  feel  at 
home  at  once  by  his  lively,  jolly,  whole-souled 
welcome.  Great  fires  were  blazing  on  the 
hearths,  and  beneath  the  influence  of  the 
host  and  the  genial  warmth  of  the  fires  all 
began  to  feel  very  comfortable,  but  now  and 
then  a  strange  hush  was  evident,  as  if  all 
expected  some  odd  denouement  of  this  unu- 
sual party.  But  as  games  and  music  were 
introduced,  and  supper  was  served,  they  be- 
gan to  conclude  it  was  only  a  party  and 
that  Uncle  John  was  trying  to  be  neigh- 
borly in  his  way.  Towards  nine  o'clock, 
however,  there  was  a  bustle  caused  by  the 
arrival  of  two  strangers,  both  wrapped  in 
great  overcoats  and  shawls  as  if  they  had 
ridden  far  that  cold  night. 

Uncle  John  met  them  at  the  door  and  drew 


22  UNCLE   JOHN'S 

them  in.  That  one  must  be  a  lawyer  some 
one  whispered.  See  the  green  bag  he  car- 
ries. Yes,  he  was  a  lawyer,  but  such  a  queer 
looking  lawyer.  Where  did  Uncle  John  find 
him  ?     [7.] 

The  other  one  of  these  strangers  certainly 
must  be  a  doctor. 

Here  he  comes  with  his  box  of  surgical 
instruments  and  his  phials  of  medicines.     [8.] 

Uncle  John  led  the  two  strangers  off  to 
give  them  some  refreshments,  and  the  vil- 
lage people  went  on  with  their  games  and 
plays  and  talk,  though  much  wondering  why 
these  strangers  had  come  and  who  they  were. 

In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  or  so,  Dickey 
Diggs  appeared,  evidently  charged  with  some 
message  to  the  guests,  but  he  had  forgotten 
it,  and  had  to  go  back  to  see  what  he  had 
been  sent  to  say.  When  he  came  back,  it 
was  with  the  request  that  Uncle  John  want- 
ed every  body  to  go  down-stairs;  but  while 
they  wondered  at  this  strange  request,  Uncle 


CHRISTMAS.  PARTY.  23 

John  himself  appeared,  and  told  them  they 
were  to  come  up-stairs,  and  not  to  go  to  the 
cellar.  Of  course  there  was  a  laugh  at  poor 
Dickey's  blunder,  but  they  all  mounted  the 
stairs  sure  now  that  the  interest  of  the  even- 
ing was  approaching  its  highest  point  what- 
ever it  might  be,  but  no  one  could  guess 
what  it  was. 

They  found  the  rooms  up-stairs  brilliantly 
lighted,  and  as  many  as  could  be  seated  were 
asked  to  occupy  the  benches  in  the  middle 
room,  while  the  others  sat  on  chairs  and  on 
the  little  beds  in  the  rooms  to  the  right  and 
the  left  which  opened  into  the  main  room  by 
folding  doors. 

Occupying  chairs  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
main  room  were  Uncle  John  and  the  two 
strangers. 

Now  if  you  will  imagine  that  we  are  the 
villagers  seated  in  these  queer  upper  rooms 
of  the  old  building,  we  will  try  to  look  at  the 
group  in  the  upper  end  of  the  main  room  as 
it  appeared  when  all  things  were  ready.     [9.] 


24  uncle  John's 

When  all  had  become  quiet,  Uncle  John 
arose,  and  this  is  what  he  said: — 

"  My  friends,  I  know  I  am  an  odd  old  fel- 
low, and  have  odd  ways  of  doing  things;  but 
if  I  can't  do  things  in  my  own  way,  I  am  like 
all  the  rest  of  the  world, — I  think  they  are  not 
well  done.  You  are  all  wondering  why  this 
house  is  fixed  up  as  it  is,  and  what  is  to  be 
done  with  it.  Before  I  tell  you  that,  I  must 
tell  you  a  story. 

"  Many  a  long  year  ago,  when  Susan  and  I 
were  children,  we  had  a  little  sister.  We 
three  were  poor  neglected  orphans,  turned 
out  into  the  world  at  the  death  of  our  parents 
to  seek  our  own  living. 

"  The  only  thing  we  had  as  we  thus  went 
out,  beside  the  scanty  clothing  we  wore, 
was  a  poor  old  crippled  dog.  He  clung  to 
us.  He  had  been  our  pet,  and  we  could  not 
turn  him  away.  Neither  would  he  desert 
us,  but  in  all  of  our  wanderings  he  was 
with  us. 

"  I  will  not  describe  all  the  sad  experiences 
of  the  months  and  months  of  our  poverty, — 


CHRISTMAS    PARTY.  25 

how  we  sought  work  and  failed  to  find  it, 
how  we  begged  from  door  to  door,  until  at 
length,  to  make  our  sorrows  still  worse,  my 
little  sister  was  run  over  in  the  street  by  a 
heavy  team,  and  was  an  invalid  for  the  rest 
of  her  life.  But  her  misfortune  brought  us 
friends.  I  found  a  place  in  a  store  and  Susan 
in  a  good  family,  and  little  Margery  was  car- 
ried to  a  hospital. 

"  By  and  by  we  found  lodgings  with  a  re- 
spectable family,  and  my  wages  grew  grad- 
ually better,  until  we  could  furnish  a  room 
or  two. 

"  Day  by  day  was  my  toil  lightened  by  the 
thought  of  spending  the  long  evenings  at 
home  with  my  sisters.  Margery  was  just 
able  to  make  her  way  about  the  room  upon 
her  crutches,  but  her  sunny  smile  never  failed 
her.  The  sunshine  of  heaven  seemed  ever  to 
rest  upon  her,  and  she  seemed  to  me  to  have 
the  halo  around  her  head  before  she  reached 
the  land  of  brightness.  Our  old  dog  was 
with  us,  and  had  his  place  by  the  fireside. 
He  was  my  sister's  friend  and  pet.      Although 


26  UNCLE   JOHN'S 

old  and  crippled,  we  could  not  turn  him  off, 
nor  did  we  wish  to  do  so. 

"  Ah,  how  well  do  I  remember  those  years, 
— as  steadily  rising  in  business  I  was  able  to 
add  to  our  invalid  sister's  comfort,  and  smooth 
her  decline.  But  she  faded  away  before  our 
eyes,  and  the  night  after  our  most  happy 
Christmas  Day  we  found  her  dead  in  her 
chair,  and  the  old  dog  at  her  feet.  She  had 
gone  quietly  to  her  rest,  and  her  dumb  com- 
panion had  ceased  to  live  when  he  found  his 
mistress  was  gone." 

Here  the  old  man  paused  in  his  story,  and 
the  sobs  of  his  hearers  prevented  his  going 
on  for  some  minutes,  but  he  presently  re- 
sumed, and  said — 

"This  was  years  ago,  and  I  was  a  young 
man  then.  Now  I  am  old,  and  have  not 
many  years  to  live  ere  I  shall  join  her  in  a 
better  land.  Her  memory  has  ever  been  with 
me,  and  I  have  seen  her  face  in  every  suf- 
ferer I  have  met.  Yes,  you  have  often  won- 
dered at  my  strange  fancy  for  poor  dumb 
animals,  but   1   have   ever   remembered   her 


CHRISTMAS    PARTY.  27 

love  for  the  old  dog  Jack  who  was  our  friend 
in  our  poverty. 

"And  now  that  wealth  has  been  given 
me,  I  am  going  to  devote  it  to  the  ser- 
vice of  the  dear  Christ  in  befriending  his 
little  ones.  This  building  in  which  you  are 
now  met  is  to  be  a  Children's  Hospital.  Here 
is  the  chapel  where  they  will  be  taught  to  love 
the  Saviour,  there  are  the  beds  where  they 
will  sleep.  The  rooms  down -stairs  where 
you  first  assembled  are  for  the  other  pur- 
poses of  the  little  folks  when  well  enough 
to  be  about  and  to  play.  And  here  is  the 
doctor  who  is  to  take  charge  of  the  hospital, 
and,  if  God  will,  make  them  well." 

At  this  point  the  doctor  seated  by  Uncle 
John  arose  and  bowed  to  the  audience. 
Then  when  he  was  seated  the  old  gentle- 
man went  on — 

"And  now  I  have  asked  my  lawyer  to 
come  here  to-night  to  read  the  deed  of  gift, 
and  the  plan  of  this  charity  which  in  your 
presence  to-night  is  thus  formally  opened.' 

Here  the  other  gentleman  arose,  and,  open- 


28  UNCLE   JOHN'S 

ing  the  bag  which  he  carried,  read  out  a 
long  and  dry  legal  document,  in  which  it 
was  recited  that  John  Marcon  of  such  a 
place  and  of  such  a  county,  for  the  purpose 
of  founding  a  hospital  for  children  to  be 
known  as  "  The  Margery  Marcon  Hospital " 
did  give  to  such  and  such  a  board  of  trus- 
tees, the  house  and  grounds  in  such  a  place, 
and  beside,  the  sum  of  a  great  many  thou- 
sands of  dollars,  to  be  by  them  and  their 
successors  held  in  trust,  &c. 

It  was  a  very  formal  document,  and  al- 
most formidable  from  the  number  of  its  legal 
terms,  but  its  drift  was  comprehended  after 
the  lawyer  had  made  a  few  explanations,  and 
then  what  a  shout  arose  from  young  and 
old !  Why  it  was  fortunate  that  there  were 
no  sick  children  there  yet.  And  then,  when 
the  noise  had  subsided,  there  was  such  a 
rush  to  shake  Uncle  John's  hand !  The  hap- 
piness of  that  moment  would  have  repaid 
him  for  the  good  deed,  but  he  had  with  him 
the  thought  that  somehow  the  soul  of  the 
departed    sister    was    rejoicing    in    Paradise 


CHRISTMAS    PARTY.  29 

over  what  he  had  done.  Certain  it  was 
that  the  good  Christ  saw  it,  and  that  was 
reward  enough. 

And  now  many  years  have  passed  since 
that  Christmas  time,  and  the  little  white 
beds  are  full  of  children  who  have  been 
brought  to  the  Margery  Marcon  Hospital 
to  be  made  well;  but  in  two  white  beds, — 
yes,  under  the  snow,  —  the  bodies  of  Uncle 
John  and  Aunt  Susan  are  sleeping  the  sleep 
from  which  they  will  never  awaken  till  tLey 
hear  the  trumpet  of  the  archangel  at  the  last 
great  day. 


THE  TRAMPS'  CHRISTMAS  EVE 


THE  TRAMPS'  CHRISTMAS  EVE. 


:>XK° 


EARLY  a  year  before  the  Christmas 
Eve  of  which  I  am  to  tell  you,  the 
home  of  Farmer  Warren  was  made 
very  sad  by  the  departure  of  his 
son  William.  Perhaps  the  boy  was  very 
foolish  to  go  away  as  he  did,  but  the  dis- 
appointment he  felt  at  being  rejected  by  the 
girl  whom  he  had  loved  ever  since  she  rame 
as  a  little  stranger  to  his  father's  house,  was 
so  bitter  that  he  hastily  tore  himself  away 
from  his  old  home,  and  from  the  day  he  left 
only  one  message  had  been  received  from 
him,  and  that  was  a  brief  letter  stating  that 
he  was  trying  to  forget  his  sorrow  by  v»  ork- 
ing  in  the  silver  mines  of  Nevada.     Fta  was 


34  THE    TRAMPS'    CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

very  foolish  for  going  away,  for  the  orphan. 
Mary  Louise,  had  refused  him  only  becauso 
she  was  afraid  his  parents  would  object  to 
his  marrying  one  who  came  to  them  a  poor 
parentless  child  from  the  almshouse  of  a 
great  city. 

She  did  not  know  then  how  she  had  grown 
into  their  hearts,  and  that  they  had  long 
regarded  her  as  their  daughter,  and  would  be 
glad  indeed  to  see  her  become  their  son's 
wife. 

But  she,  poor  little  soul,  thought  only  of 
herself  as  an  orphan  of  whose  parentage  no 
one  knew  any  thing,  not  even  the  keepers  of 
the  almshouse  where  she  had  been  left  one 
winter's  night  by  some  stranger.  All  the 
information  given  about  her  was  a  note  writ- 
ten in  a  scrawling  hand  containing  these 
words:  "This  here  baby  ain't  got  no  father 
and  no  mother.     Both  of  'em  is  ded." 

The  keeper  of  the  almshouse  took  the  baby 
in,  and  she  was  christened  Mary  Louise,  after 
the  name  of  his  wife,  and  as  no  one  knew 
her   family   name,    the    Mary    stood    for   the 


THE    TRAMPS'    CHRISTMAS    EVE.  35 

Christian  name,  and  Louise  had  to  serve  for 
the  family  name. 

She  stayed  at  the  almshouse  until  she  was 
eight  years  old,  when  Farmer  Warren,  think- 
ing his  wife  ought  to  have  some  one  to  wait 
on  her  a  little,  drove  up  one  day,  was  pleased 
with  the  sweet,  innocent  face  of  the  little 
girl,  and  took  her  to  his  home.  There  she 
grew  up  and  ripened  into  a  beautiful  young 
woman,  graceful,  active,  and  intelligent.  She 
had  made  good  use  of  all  her  advantages, 
and,  although  her  position  was  nominally 
that  of  a  servant  in  the  family,  she  was  treat- 
ed as  a  daughter,  and  well  repaid  the  affec- 
tion of  the  old  couple  whose  wants  she  so 
carefully  looked  after.  As  time  went  on,  she 
grew  to  be  the  main-stay  of  the  house.  Her 
busy  brain  and  active  fingers  gave  shape  to 
all  the  details  of  the  great  farmhouse,  and 
her  cheery  voice  directed  the  labor  of  the 
servants  that  were  employed. 

It  was  amazing  how  one  so  young  could 
do  so  much,  and  the  old  farmer  used  to  de- 
clare that  her  muscles  were  made  of  steel, 


36  THE    TRAMPS'    CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

and  her  brain  was  equal  to  managing  a 
colony. 

How  bright  and  happy  she  made  that  old 
farmhouse,  and  how  the  old  folks  leaned 
upon  her  for  support  as  they  felt  themselves 
tottering  down  the  other  side  of  the  hill  of 
time ! 

All  this  pleasant  state  of  things  might 
have  gone  on  no  one  knows  how  much  long- 
er if  she  had  not  refused  to  become  William 
Warren's  wife.  And  she  never  would  have 
refused  him  if  she  had  not  been  afraid  of 
bringing  disgrace  upon  him  by  letting  him 
marry  one  who  did  not  know  even  the  name 
of  her  parents,  and  who  had  spent  seven 
years  of  her  life  in  an  almshouse.  There  is 
where  she  made  her  mistake,  for  no  one 
cared  who  her  parents  were,  nor  where  she 
had  spent  her  baby  days.  It  was  enough 
lor  them  all  to  know  that  she  was  now  a 
noble  woman. 

But  she  said  "  no  "  to  William,  and  he  took 
it  as  her  final  answer,  and  left  his  home. 

How  changed  that  home  became  after  h« 


THE    TRAMPS'    CHRISTMAS    EVE.  37 

went  away !  The  brightness  died  out  of  hia 
father's  face,  and  the  poor  old  mother  grew 
more  feeble  day  by  day.  The  farm  work  did 
not  go  on  well  without  him,  and  he  Avas  ter 
ribly  missed  every  hour. 

Old  Mr.  Warren  tried  every  plan  to  hear 
something  more  from  his  son.  He  wrote  in 
all  directions  to  the  mines  of  the  Pacific,  but 
no  word  came,  and  now  it  was  nearly  a  year 
since  "William  went  away.  Yes,  nearly  a 
whole  sad  year,  for  he  had  gone  the  day 
following  the  last  Christmas,  and  it  was  now 
almost  Christmas  again. 

We  look  in  upon  them  as  the  three  sat  in 
the  living  room  of  the  old  farmhouse  two 
nights  before  Christmas.     [1.] 

The  old  people  are  at  opposite  sides  of  the 
fireplace  where  the  logs  are  burning,  both 
wrapped  in  their  own  gloomy  thoughts,  and 
Mary  is  seated  at  a  table,  busy  with  some 
sewing,  but  now  and  then  the  great  tears 
blind  her  eyes  and  the  work  falls  down  into 
her  lap. 


38  THE    TRAMPS'    CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

The  silence  which  has  lasted  long  is  bro- 
ken by  the  old  man,  who  says: 

"Mary,  what  shall  we  do  about  this  here 
merry-making  that  they  want  to  have  in 
our  kitchen  to-morrow  night  ?  You  know 
to-morrow  is  Christmas  Eve,  and  Betty  says 
they  want  to  keep  up  the  old  ways  of  havin 
some  of  the  folks  come  in  just  as  they  used 
to  do." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Warren,"  she  replies,  "  why  do 
you  ask  me !  I  feel  as  if  I  could  never  be 
merry  again.  I  don't  know  what  to  say. 
I-'ll  do  any  thing  you  think  is  right,  but  I've 
no  heart  for  mirth." 

"Well,  well,  poor  girl,  I  know  ye  is  sad; 
but  you're  the  manager  since  mother  and  I 
is  gettin'  old,  and  I  consult  ye  about  every 
thin'.  I  don't  know  how  to  refuse  the  folks 
what  they've  asked,  but  I'd  rather  they 
wouldn't  have  it.  Howsomever,  I  s'pose  it 
ain't  right  for  us  to  deprive  'em  of  the  chance 
of  havin'  a  pleasant  evenin',  but  I  wish — 
Oh !  I  wish  my  boy  was  here ! " 

And  here  the   old  man   broke   down   and 


THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  39 

wept,  and  the  good  wife  moaned  in  sym- 
pathy. 

For  a  long  time  after  no  words  were  spo- 
ken, all  were  busy  with  their  own  thoughts, 
but  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door  and 
roused  them.  Presently  there  entered  a  dep- 
utation to  ask  the  accustomed  privilege  of 
a  Christmas  jollification  in  the  kitchen.     [2.] 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  awkwardness  of 
the  three  who  stood  grinning  and  bowing, 
and  mustering  up  courage  to  present  the 
petition  which  had  been  drawn  up  on  a 
paper. 

It  was  a  written  petition  which  Jonas 
Green,  the  man  of  all  work,  who  was  some- 
thing of  a  poet,  or  who  thought  he  was,  had 
spent  the  whole  evening  in  writing. 

Like  many  another,  Jonas  was  immensely 
pleased  with  his  own  productions,  but  having 
a  high  voice  and  defective  eyesight,  he  was 
not  a  very  impressive  reader,  but  he  thought 
he  was.  With  him  came  Betty, — mischiev- 
ous, fun-loving  Betty, — who  had  flattered  the 
poet,  and  made  him  think  his  verses  ranked 


40  THE    TRAMPS'    CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

with  those  of  the  poets  in  the  old  school- 
book  which  Jonas  thumbed  so  industriously. 

Poor  Jonas  drank  in  with  great  greedi- 
ness the  flattery — and  as  one  had  described 
the  poet  as  rolling  his  eyes  in  fine  frenzy, 
so  Jonas  tried  to  roll  his,  but  they  were  too 
weak  to  roll  much,  and  when  he  did  roll 
them,  the  effect  back  of  the  queer  pair  of 
spectacles  he  wore  was  ludicrous  enough. 

The  other  member  of  the  kitchen  com- 
mittee was  Michael.  Good,  honest,  blunder- 
ing old  Michael,  from  the  sod  of  Erin,  a  gen- 
uine Irishman,  warm-hearted  and  faithful. 

You  could  not  mistake  him  for  any  one 
else  than  a  Hibernian,  so  broad  was  the 
brogue,  and  so  marked  was  his  appearance. 
And  now  these  three  stood  before  Mr.  War- 
ren to  secure  his  consent  to  having  the  usual 
frolic  in  the  kitchen  on  Christinas  Eve. 

"  Well,  Jonas,  what  now  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Warren,  and  then  the  poet  unfolded  the 
paper  in  his  hand,  and  began  to  read. 


THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  41 

"Illustrious  and  wennerrable  farmer, 
The  day  arter  to-morrer 

Is  called  Christmas  Day. 
Now  Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year, 
And  we  most  humbly  do  appear 

To  ax  you  if  we  may 
On  Christmas  Eve  together  in 
Your  great  big,  great  big,  kitchyin 

Our  friends  invite 
To  spend  a  socyal  hour  or  two 
In  doin'  as  we've  youst  for  to  do 

On  that  air  night. 
A  little  corn  We'll  pop 
And  then  perhaps  we'll  stop 

And  tayles  and  stories  tell, 
With  games  and  plays  and  songs 
The  moments  roll  along 

And  all  end  well." 

The  manner  in  which  Jonas  delivered 
these  lines  was  so  irresistibly  comic  that 
the  hearts  that  had  been  so  sad  before  now 
grew  merry,  and  impulsively  the  old  farmer 
spoke  up  and  said,  "  Yes,  yes,  my  man,  have 
just  as  good  a  time  as  you  can,  and  joy  be 
with  you  always." 

Then  Jonas  and  Betty  and  Michael,  the  dep- 


42  THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

utation,  withdrew,  but  they  had  for  the  time 
driven  away  all  sad  thoughts  from  the  minds 
of  the  three  by  the  fireside,  and  the  talk  that 
lasted  till  bedtime  was  more  cheerful  than 
it  had  been,  until  at  length  the  old  mother 
said,  "I  did  not  say  any  thing  while  you 
and  Mary  was  talkin',  but  somehow  I've  had 
a  feelin'  comin'  over  me  that  things  will  be 
better  for  us  than  they  has  bin.  Suthin'  tells 
me  that  William  won't  allers  stay  away  from 
us.  He  knows  we  two  is  gettin'  old,  and  I 
expect  to  see  him  ag'in  afore  I  die."  Her 
hopeful  words  gave  hope  to  the  other  two, 
and  they  went  to  their  rest  feeling  as  they 
had  not  felt  in  a  long  time  before,  and  from 
three  hearts  there  went  up  very  fervent 
prayer  for  the  absent  one. 

What  an  uproarious  time  they  had  in  that 
old  kitchen  on  Christmas  Eve !  There  were 
Jonas  and  Betty  and  Michael,  and  five  of 
their  friends,  and  they  made  the  old  kitchen 
ring  with  their  laughter  as  they  sat  around 
the  fire  popping  corn  and  telling  stories.    [3.] 


THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  43 

How  easy  it  is  for  people  upon  a  winter's 
night,  as  the  wind  goes  howling  by,  to  drift 
into  telling  ghost  stories;  and  so  these  folks 
before  they  knew  it  were  fairly  absorbed  in 
the  details  of  one  of  Michael's  most  frightful 
yarns.  Michael  was  a  famous  story  teller. 
In  fact,  he  was  so  fond  of  relating  his  weird 
Irish  tales  that  he  would  lean  on  his  plough 
handle,  or  stop  his  team  at  any  time,  to  cur- 
dle up  some  one's  blood  with  one  of  his 
strange  yarns  that  he  had  heard  in  the  old 
country. 

Now  as  he  told  his  story  this  Christmas 
Eve,  the  circle  drew  their  chairs  closer  and 
closer  together  as  if  to  protect  each  other, 
should  one  of  Michael's  Avonderful  ghosts 
glide  in  upon  them.  It  was  a  strange  yarn 
that  he  was  spinning,  full  of  contradictions 
and  absurdities.     It  ran  somehow  thus: 

"Ghosts,  is  it  ye  is  talkin'  about?  Sure 
an'  it's  in  the  ould  counthree  that  there  is 
many  a  ghost.  In  the  ould  castles  and  inns 
there  is  many  of  'era. 

"  I've  never  been  after  seein'  any  of  'em 


44  THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

myself,  but  I've  seen  people  that  has  heard 
'em. 

"Now  there's  Bridget  Marooney,  my  own 
eister's  husband's  cousin,  she  that  married 
Bryan  O'Kourke,  sure  now  Bridget  has  been 
tellin'  me  many's  the  time  that  the  ould  inn 
with  the  sign  of  the  stag's  head  had  a  ghost 
in  its  best  room  where  the  ould  furniture 
was  that  onst  belonged  to  the  castle.  No- 
body ever  seed  the  ghost  that  used  to  come 
there,  but  many's  the  thraveller  that's  been 
wakened  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night  by  a 
bangin'  at  the  windy  and  an  awful  groanin'. 

"  It's  thrue  enough  that  one  thraveller  got 
up  when  he  heard  the  bangin'  and  said  it 
was  nothin'  but  the  limb  of  the  ould  tree 
that  would  strike  the  windy  shutter  when 
the  wind  blowed.  But  shure  no  one  be- 
lieved him;  for  if  an  ould  room  in  an  ould 
inn  with  ould  furniture  that's  been  in  a 
castle  ain't  the  place  for  a  ghost,  where 
would  yes  expect  a  ghost  to  be?  It's  ould 
inns  that  ghosts  loves  to  live  in,  and  Bridget 
Marooney  often  heard  the  bangin'  and  the 


THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  45 

groanin'  when  she  went  into  that  room  to 
swape  it  up  ;  and  Bridget  Marooney  is  a 
girrel  that  tells  the  truth,  barrin'  the  times 
that  she  takes  a  dhrop  of  the  crayter  from 
the  flask  of  whiskey  that  some  thraveller  has 
forgotten  to  take  away  with  him  in  the 
mornin'. 

"'Bridget,'  says  I,  'now  tell  me  sure  an' 
what  did  ye  hear  in  the  ould  room  ? '  An 
she  says,  says  she,  'I  heard  the  bangin'  at 
the  windy,  and  an  awful  groanin'  as  if  some- 
body was  bein'  killed.'  'And  where  was  the 
groanin'?'  says  I.  'Why,'  she  says,  says  she, 
'  it  seemed  to  be  in  the  ould  chimbly.' 

"  But  the  thraveller  that  said  the  bangin' 
was  made  by  the  wind  blowin'  the  limbs 
of  the  tree  ag'in  the  windy  said  that  the 
groanin'  was  made  by  the  wind  down  the 
chimbly,  —  but  how  can  the  wind  groan? 
The  wind  ain't  got  feelin'  like  a  human 
bein'.  The  wind  don't  get  hurted  and  cry 
out. 

"You  see,  Bridget  is  a  wonderful  woman, 
if  I  do  say  so  that  thinks  of  p-oin'  back  to 


46  THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

Ireland  and  marryin'  her  if  she  will  make 
up  her  mind  to  give  up  touchin'  the  whiskey. 
But  I'm  afeard  she  likes  a  dhrop  of  the  cray- 
ter  too  well  to  give  it  up,  and  she  has  a  way 
of  throwin'  things  around  when  she  gets  mad 
that  used  to  make  me  afeard  of  her.  But 
for  all  o'  that  she's  a  wonderful  woman,  and 
she  can  argy  with  the  praist,  and  nobody 
can  make  her  believe  that  a  limb  of  a  tree 
can  bang  like  that  ag'in  a  windy,  and  that 
the  wind  can  groan  down  a  chimbly  like  a 
human  bein'. 

"An'  all  the  neighbors  says  the  raysan  that 
room  is  haunted  is  because  the  ould  miser 
that  used  to  live  in  it  was  a  thafe,  and  some 
bigger  thafe  stold  his  money  and  he  died 
from  the  loss  of  it.  And  now  he  comes 
back  ag'in,  a-lookin'  fur  it,  and  beatin'  his 
Lead  ag'in  the  walls  of  the  house,  and  groan- 
in'  because  he  can't  find  it  where  he  used  to 
count  it  all  out,  the  bright  pieces  of  gould 
and  siller,  in  the  big  chist  by  the  side  of 
his  bed.  The  mane  heretic,  Dennis  M'Dade, 
used  for  to  say  that  he  didn't  know  what  the 


THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  47 

ould  miser's  ghost  wanted  with  his  money 
anyhow.  But  what  did  such  a  heretic  as 
Dennis  know  about  the  wants  of  a  ghost? 

"Sure  an'  he  might  be  seekin'  for  it  to  dis- 
tribute it  among  the  desarviu'  females  sech 
as  Bridget,  that  they  could  make  good  use 
of  it  to  build  a  mansion  and  buy  a  patch  of 
praity  land,  and  marry  sech  as  me  that  would 
make  'em  good  husbands. 

"  For  sure  if  Bridget  had  the  ould  man's 
money,  I  could  forgive  her  the  offence  of 
throwin'  things  around  when  she  had  been 
drinkin'  too  much  of  the  crayter. 

"Sure  an'  then  I'd  be  one  of  the  gintry,  an 
would  ride  around  in  me  coach  with  a  fut- 
man  standin'  up  at  the  back  of  me  lady 
and  me." 

How  accurately  then  Michael  went  on  to 
describe  the  experiences  of  certain  travellers 
who  had  been  kept  awake  all  night  long  by 
this  fearful  whack,  whack,  whack,  against 
the  window !  And  to  give  greater  effect  to 
his  story  just  then  Michael  said, 

"It  was  a  noise  jest  like  this  now,"  and 


48  THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

he  pounded  against  the  side  of  the  kitchen 
table. 

Just  as  he  had  finished,  there  came  three 
rousing  whacks  at  the  kitchen  door.  Terror 
seized  upon  all  the  party,  for  they  thought 
at  once  that  a  ghost  had  come,  so  full  had 
their  minds  been  of  Michael's  story,  and  they 
started  up  all  trembling.  Their  hair  seemed 
to  stand  on  end,  their  knees  shook  together. 
They  looked  at  each  other  in  blank  astonish- 
ment, and  then  the  three  great  raps  came 
again,  and  a  voice  outside  called,  "  Open 
vour  door.  Let  us  in,  can't  you  ? "  The 
voice  was  not  ghostlike,  but  heavy  and 
gruff.  It  drove  away  their  thoughts  of 
ghosts,  and  made  them  see  how  foolish 
they  were  to  be  so   frightened. 

For  awhile,  however,  no  one  would  open 
the  door,  but  finally  Jonas  drew  the  bolt, 
and  in  stepped  two  of  the  most  tattered,  dil- 
apidated individuals  you  ever  saw.     [4.] 

They  were  all  in  rags,  and  their  faces  Avere 
covered  with  a  great  growth  of  beard.  No 
sooner  had  they  steDned  in  than  Betty  whie- 


THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE.         49 

pered,  "  they're  tramps.  We'll  all  be  kihed." 
And  at  once  the  company  was  filled  with 
greater  terror  than  before,  for  a  living  tramp 
had  grown  to  be  an  object  of  more  fear  than 
a  dead  ghost. 

What  a  commotion  there  was  in  the  kitch- 
en: the  women  screaming,  the  men  spring- 
ing for  any  article  that  would  serve  as  a 
weapon  in  case  the  tramps  proved  trouble- 
some; but  they  did  not  look  as  if  they  would 
be  troublesome  at  all,  for  there  they  stood 
laughing  and  enjoying  the  commotion  they 
had  created. 

It  would  be  hard  to  describe  the  appear- 
ance of  these  two  men.  They  were  the  most 
disreputable  looking  of  all  the  tramp  species. 
Each  had  a  bundle  over  his  shoulder  on  a 
stick,  and  they  wore  hats  that  had  evidently 
gone  on  from  bad  to  worse  until  they  could 
not  be  any  worse. 

Well,  there  these  two  strangers  stood,  en- 
ioying  the  terror  of  the  others,  until  at 
length  Betty,  who  seemed  to  be  more  cour- 
ageous than  the  rest,  spoke  up,  "  Well,  now 
4 


50         THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

that  you've  gin  us  a  good  skeer — what  do 
ye  want?" 

"  Shelter  from  the  cold,"  replied  one ; 
"  we've  travelled  far  to-day  and  are  tired 
and  cold.  Let  us  sit  down  by  your  fire. 
We're  harmless  fellows.  We  don't  want  to 
hurt  any  one.  It's  an  awful  night  outside, 
and  it  seems  warm  and  pleasant  here.  Will 
you  let  us  stay  awhile?" 

Permission  was  very  unwillingly  granted, 
but  it  seemed  too  cruel  to  turn  them  out  into 
the  winter's  storm,  and  so  they  stayed. 

The  strangers  had  an  easy  way  of  making 
themselves  at  home.  They  slung  their  bun- 
dles into  a  corner,  put  their  hats  under  their 
chairs,  and  found  the  warmest  seats  by  the 
fire.  It  was  some  time,  however,  before  the 
merry-makers  in  the  kitchen  could  dismiss 
their  fears  of  the  two  strange  guests,  but 
by  the  time  these  dilapidated  travellers  had 
eaten  with  great  relish  some  slices  of  ginger- 
bread that  Betty  had  brought  out,  the  dread 
of  them  had  gone,  and  the  strangers  pro- 
ceeded  in    their   way    to    make    themselves 


THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  51 

agreeable.  This  they  did  by  telling  stories 
of  their  adventures;  thrilling  stories  they 
were,  not  quite  so  startling  as  Michaels 
ghost  stories,  but  so  fascinating  that  the 
company  drew  closer  around  them  and  lis- 
tened with  rapt  attention. 

One  of  the  stories  told  that  night  was — 

THE  PASSAGE  OF  THE  LONG  DARK  TUNNEL. 

It  ran  about  like  this: — 

"Yes,  I've  had  many  strange  adventures 
in  my  time,'  but  the  one  that  frightened  me 
most  of  all  was  when  I  tried  to  pass  through 
the  long  dark  tunnel  at  night.  It  was  a 
short  cut  from  the  main  road  to  the  village, 
and  was  shorter  by  nearly  a  mile  than  the 
usual  way. 

"  I  knew  it  was  dangerous,  but  I  was  in  a 
hurry,  and  thought  I  would  try  it,  so  I  en« 
tered  the  mouth  of  the  long  dark  passage, 
and  trudged  on.  It  was  dripping  with  wa- 
ter, and  smelled  horribly.  I  stumbled  over 
the  cross-ties,  and  once  I  fell  down  flat,  but 
these    were    small    troubles    compared    with 


52  THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

what  was  to  come;  for  after  I  had  got  about 
half  way  through  I  heard  the  screech  of  the 
engine  coming  in  at  the  other  end,  and  soon 
I  saw  the  light  like  the  great  mocking  eye 
of  an  advancing  monster.  Well,  I  can't  tell 
you  how  I  felt,  or  how  fast  the  thoughts 
went  through  my  brain.  It  seemed  an  age 
while  I  stood  there  watching  that  rapidly 
approaching  light,  and  listening  to  the  thun- 
dering of  the  train  as  it  came  on  and  on.  I 
had  no  other  expectation  than  that  of  being 
killed.  It  seemed  impossible  to  escape  an 
awful  death.  I  could  not  hope  to  squeeze 
myself  near  enough  to  the  walls  of  the  tun- 
nel, and  of  course  I  could  not  stop  the  train. 
For  awhile  I  stood  fascinated,  unable  to  stir 
hand  or  foot,  but  as  the  train  came  rattling 
on  I  could  not  endure  the  sight  of  that  great 
mocking  eye,  and  so  I  dashed  myself  down 
flat  on  my  face  on  the  ground. 

"  I  held  my  breath  and  waited  for  the  aw- 
ful blow  that  would  end  my  life,  and  then  I 
lost  all  consciousness.  How  long  I  stayed 
there  flat  in  the  black  puddle  of  water  where 


THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE.         53 

I  had  fallen,  I  knew  not,  but  when  my  senses 
came  back  to  me  the  train  had  passed  and  I 
was  safe.  Yes,  safe;  for,  in  falling  down,  I 
had  fallen  between  the  double  tracks  in  a 
place  worn  away  by  a  stream  that  had 
washed  a  passage  for  itself,  and  so  I  escaped. 
A  few  inches  to  the  right  or  left,  and  I  would 
not  have  been  here  to-day  to  tell  the  tale." 

One  story  led  on  to  another,  and  each 
story  grew  more  exciting  than  the  last,  but 
after  awhile  there  was  a  pause,  during  which 
the  younger  of  the  two  strangers  glancing 
up  saw  over  the  kitchen  fireplace  a  violin, 
and  took  it  down  and  began  to  tune  it. 
When  they  found  he  could  play,  they  were 
urgent  that  he  should  play  them  a  tune,  and 
he  willingly  complied;  but  such  a  comical 
figure  did  he  cut  as  he  sawed  away  with  the 
bow  on  the  old  violin,  that  they  laughed  un- 
til the  tears  rolled  down  their  cheeks.  Pres- 
ently it  was  proposed  by  Betty  that  they 
should  have  a  dance,  and  they  arranged 
themselves  lor  an  old  Virginia  reel. 


54         THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

The  fiddler  sat  perched  upon  a  flour  bar^ 
rel  on  one  side,  and  the  other  stranger  took 
his  place  in  the  line  for  the  dance. 

And  now  the  fun  grew  uproarious,  for 
never  were  there  such  jolly  dancers  as  these. 
Their'  bodies  swayed  back  and  forth.  They 
swung  their  arms,  and  frisked  about  as  if 
they  were  possessed.  It  is  hard  to  describe 
the  mirth  that  came  into  that  old  kitchen,  as 
the  merry  dancers  went  through  the  figures 
of  the  reel. 

In  the  midst  of  the  uproar,  old  Farmer 
Warren  and  his  wife  and  Mary,  attracted 
by  the  noise,  came  in  to  look  on  at  the  jol- 
lification.    [5.] 

As  they  came  in,  there  was  a  rapid  change 
in  the  conduct  of  the  strangers,  and  the  fid- 
dler became  embarrassed  and  lost  the  tune. 
The  dance  stopped.  All  eyes  were  turned 
upon  the  two  tramps,  who  had  drawn  close 
together.  There  was  a  pause,  a  dead  silence 
for  a  few  minutes,  when  the  old  farmer  said, 
"Go  on,  my  friends,  go  on;  don't  stop.  Let 
me  too  enjoy  vour  happiness." 


THE    TRAMPS    CHRISTMAS    EVE.  55 

But  the  strangers  stood  still,  side  by  side, 
and  then,  turning  to  each  other,  began  the 
strangest  sort  of  performance.  The  larger 
of  the  two  started  to  run  for  the  door,  but 
the  other  caught  him,  and  then  began  a  scuf- 
fle. And,  to  the  surprise  of  every  one,  off 
came  the  wigs  that  they  had  worn. 

In  an  instant  there  was  a  scream  from 
Mary.  "  It's  William,"  she  said,  and  she 
caught  him  by  the  arms. 

Sure  enough  it  was  William;  come  home 
again  after  the  long  year's  absence, — come 
home  in  this  strange  disguise  on  Christmas 
Eve, — come  home  to  stay. 

But  why  such  a  strange  return?  Why 
in  disguise  at  all?  Why  with  such  an  odd 
companion  ? 

Motioning  to  them  all  to  be  seated,  he 
told  his  story,  and  this  is  how  it  ran: — 

"  You  all  know  why  I  went  away.  I  felt 
that  I  could  not  stay  here  another  day,  and 
so  I  resolved  that  I  would  try  to  forget  my 
bitter  disappointment  among  new  scenes  and 
with  new  surroundings.     I  made  my  way  to 


56         THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

the  great  West,  and  finally  to  the  mines  of 
Nevada.  I  cared  very  little  to  make  money, 
but  wanted  to  forget  my  trouble  in  active 
employment.  I  had  not  been  long  in  the 
mines  before  a  dreadful  accident  happened, — 
the  earth  caved  in  and  I  was  saved  from 
death  only  by  the  efforts  of  this  my  friend, 
John  Wallace. 

"  From  that  day  there  sprang  up  a  strong 
affection  between  us,  and  I  told  him  my 
story  and  he  told  me  his.  Well,  the  result 
was  that  he  persuaded  me  to  come  home 
again,  and  we  made  our  way  by  slow  de- 
grees, seeing  what  we  could  as  we  came 
along,  and  timed  our  return  so  as  to  reach 
here  on  Christmas  Eve.  I  can  not  tell  you 
how  deep  were  my  emotions  upon  nearing 
my  home.  So  when  we  got  to  the  village, 
we  concluded  to  disguise  ourselves,  and  what 
you  see  upon  us,  these  rags  and  tatters,  we 
bought  at  an  old  shop,  and  came  here  so 
changed  that  I  knew  no  one  would  know 
me.  I  wanted  to  get  into  the  old  house  once 
more,  and  finding  the  kitchen  lighted  up,  we 


THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  57 

entered  and  have  tried  to  add  to  the  enter- 
tainment of  Betty  and  her  friends. 

"  When  you,  father  and  mother  and  Mary, 
came  in,  my  courage  failed  me,  and  I  tried 
to  run  away,  but  my  friend  John  stopped 
me  as  you  know,  and  kept  me  here,  and 
now  here  I  am.  The  welcome  Mary  has 
given  me  shows  me  how  foolish  I  was  to 
have  gone  away  at  first,  and  your  letter 
which  reached  me  only  two  mouths  ago, 
just  before  I  concluded  to  return,  explains 
why  she  said  that  cruel  "no."  I  am  sure 
she  will  change  her  mind, — yes,  that  she  has 
changed  it,  and  all  will  be  well, — especially 
after  she  hears  another  story  which  John 
Wallace  is  now  ready  to  tell  you." 

And  now  all  eyes  were  turned  to  the  other 
stranger,  the  fiddler,  and  this  is  what  he 
6aid : — 

"I'm  an  old  sailor.  I've  sailed  from  port 
to  port  these  many  years.  I  married  Kose 
Murray  in  England,  and  left  her  money  to 
cross  the    ocean   in   a   steamer    to  join    me 


58  THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

in  New  York,  for  there  our  vessel  was  to 
sail. 

'*  I  never  saw  her  again,  for  the  vessel  in 
which  I  sailed  was  lost  at  sea,  and  I  was 
rescued  by  a  brig  bound  on  a  whaling  voy- 
age of  four  years  in  the  South  Pacific. 

"  When  I  came  back  to  New  York  at  the 
end  of  the  four  years,  I  found  that  Rose  had 
landed  there  from  the  steamer,  and  had  gone 
to  the  people  where  I  had  engaged  a  place 
for  her;  but  after  the  birth  of  her  little  girl 
she  heard  of  the  loss  of  the  vessel  in  which 
I  had  sailed,  and  thought  me  dead;  her  heart 
was  broken  and  she  died. 

"  So  the  people  where  she  boarded  carried 
the  little  one  to  an  almshouse,  but  no  one 
could  tell  me  where,  for  Rose's  friends  had 
moved  far  away  to  the  West.  At  last  I 
found  them  and  learned  the  place.  Then 
when  I  went  to  it  to  see  her,  she  had  been 
taken  away  by  a  farmer,  they  said — a  farm- 
er named  Warren,  but  the  record  was  lost 
and  they  knew  not  where  he  lived.     [6.] 

'■  And  so  for  many  years  1  searched  for  my 


THE    TRAMPS'   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  59 

daughter,  and  had  begun  to  think  I  could 
never  find  her,  when  I  met  William  in  the 
mines,  and  found  that  my  daughter  was  safe 
in  his  father's  house.  I  persuaded  him  to 
return,  and  here  we  are.  It  was  his  plan  to 
assume  this  disguise,  for  wise  as  he  is  .upon 
all  other  matters,  his  head  was  well  nigh 
turned  because  he  was  afraid  he  would  not 
be  welcomed  by  the  one  who  once  refused 
to  become  his  wife. 

"Mary,  you  will  not  disgrace  him,  for  you 
are  an  honest  sailor's  daughter,  and  your 
mother  was  a  jewel. 

"And  this  is  my  daughter,"  continued  he, 
"my  daughter  whom  I  never  saw  before  to- 
night, but  she  is  her  mother's  very  image. 
Her  eyes,  her  hair,  her  face,  just  as  eighteen 
years  ago  I  married  her  in  the  old  home 
where  we  were  children  together. 

"Mary,  thank  God  I've  found  you!  Often 
and  often  I've  been  ready  to  despair,  but 
now  I've  found  you,  and  the  Lord  be 
praised ! " 

"Aye,"    s?id    the    old    farmer,    "aye,    the 


f>0  THE    TRAMPS'    CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

Lord  be  praised  who  has  brought  so  much 
joy  to  us  this  Christmas  Eve.  He  has  sent 
me  back  my  boy,  and  he  has  helped  you 
in  this  strange  way  to  find  your  daughter. 
And  perhaps  he  has  permitted  us  to  have 
this  strange  experience  of  joy  to-night  that 
we  may  all  the  better  on  to-morrow's  festival 
know  what  it  means  when  it  is  declared  that 
God  sent  his  Son  into  the  world  to  save  the 
lost    and  to  bring  the  wanderers  home." 


THE  BELATED  CHRISTMAS  GUESTS. 


THE  BELATED  CHRISTMAS  GUESTS. 


o^lc 


ANY  long  years  ago  when  much  of 
the  central  and  northern  part  of 
the  state  of  New  York  was  an 
unbroken  wilderness,  before  the 
great  forests  were  cut  away,  and  before  rail- 
roads made  a  net- work  between  the  different 
sections  of  the  state, — three  families  removed 
from  a  town  near  the  southern  border  and 
took  up  their  abode  in  one  of  the  counties 
alqn;  -  the  Mohawk. 

Tiiey  were  pious  families,  and  had  many 
a  regret  at  leaving  the  dear  old  church 
where  for  so  many  years  they  had  wor- 
shipped the  God  of  their  fathers.  But  there 
were  many  young  mouths  to  feed,  and  the 
hope  of  feeding  them  led  to  the  formation 


64      THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS  GUESTS. 

of  new  homes  in  the  newer  region  where 
not  so  many  stragglers  for  bread  were  to  be 
found,  and  where  the  bread  might  perhaps 
be  the  more  easily  won. 

The  lands  they  purchased  were  in  the  same1 
county,  but  the  rough  houses  they  built  were 
distant  from  each  other  some  miles.  Koads 
were  few,  most  of  them  being  winding  ways 
along  the  river  bank,  or  through  the  woods. 
There  was  but  little  open  country,  and  few 
neighbors.  Cleared  spaces  were  the  excep- 
tion. 

During  the  summers,  there  was  some  little 
intercourse  between  the  three  families,  but 
winter  snows  were  so  deep  and  winter  colds 
so  sharp  that  they  saw  but  little  of  each 
other  in  the  cold  season,  except  at  Christmas 
time.    " 

It  became  their  custom  always  to  assemble 
at  the  house  of  one  of  the  three  the  day  be- 
fore Christmas,  and  to  spend  Christmas,  and 
a  day  or  two  more,  in  happy  festivities. 

There  being  no  church  near,  they  would 
read  the  church  service  in  the  family  room. 


THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS   GUESTS.      65 

talk  together  of  the  wondrous  birth  of  the 
Redeemer,  and  have  many  merry  games  and 
happy  times  generally. 

Bright  days  were  those  Christmas  times; 
and  for  a  whole  twelvemonth  every  one 
would  look  forward  to  the  gathering  together 
of  the  families.  When  they  separated,  they 
would  agree  upon  the  place  of  meeting  for  the 
next  Christmas,  and  then  try  to  wait  with 
patience  the  rolling  around  of  another  year. 

The  place  agreed  upon  for  the  gathering 
together  at  Christmas  of  a  certain  year,  was 
the  home  of  Mr.  Larch  who  lived  in  the 
northern  part  of  the  county  on  a  hillside 
farm. 

The  roads  leading  to  it  from  the  homes 
of  the  other  two  families  came  to  a  point 
about  five  miles  south  of  it. 

A  triangle  will  illustrate  the  location  of 
the  three"  homes.  Off  to  the  north  at  the 
apex  was  Mr.  Larch's,  at  the  right  of  the 
base  was  Mr.  Winterwood's,  and  at  the  left 
of  the  base  was  Mr.  Walters1. 

As  the   days  grew  on  through  December, 


60     THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS  GUESTS. 

the  young  people  of  the  latter  two  families 
could  scarcely  restrain  their  excited  feelings, 
so  joyously  did  they  look  forward  to  the 
journey  on  the  ox  sleds,  and  to  the  warm 
welcome  that  would  await  them  at  Farmer 
Larch's. 

One  of  Mr.  Winterwood's  boys  would 
awake  each  morning  with  the  question,  "  Is 
this  the  day  before  Christmas?"  and,  being 
so  often  disappointed,  at  last  went  to  bed  say- 
ing he  would  sleep  all  through  the  days 
and  nights  until  they  could  tell  him  it  was 
the  day  before  Christmas.  But  the  time 
passed  on,  and  Christmas  drew  nearer,  slowly 
enough  for  the  children,  but  faster  for  the 
grown  people:  for  time  moves  with  leaden 
pace  for  young,  while  he  flies  for  those  who 
begin  to  grow  old. 

At  last  it  was  the  day  before  Christmas, 
and  Willie  Winterwood's  question  was  no 
longer  replied  to  with  a  "No."  This  time 
he  received  "Yes."  Whereupon  he  turned 
two  summersaults  in  the  bed,  struck  his 
face  against  the   bedpost,  and  had  a  black 


THE   BELATED   CHRISTMAS   GUESTS.      67 

eye  and  a  swollen  nose  for  the  rest  of  the 
week.  Nevertheless  he  was  happy,  although 
it  is  hard  to  look  happy  if  your  eye  is  blacked, 
and  your  nose  swelled  up  to  twice  its  prop 
er  size. 

About  ten  o'clock,  when  they  were  to  start, 
the  leaden  sky  was  full  of  snow,  but  the  fine 
feathery  particles  had  not  yet  begun  to  sift 
down  upon  the  white  blanket  that  already 
enveloped  the  earth. 

The  elders  predicted  a  heavy  storm,  and 
doubted  whether  it  was  prudent  to  set  out; 
out  so  doleful  became  the  lamentations  of  the 
children  that  it  was  concluded  to  risk  it 
anyhow. 

I  need  not  describe  the  packing  of  the 
sleds, — how  the  big  baskets  full  of  roasted 
turkeys  and  mince  pies,  and  the  crocks  full 
of  other  good  things  were  stowed  away  un- 
der the  seats;  nor  how  one  of  the  boys  was 
discovered  on  the  front  seat  without  his  cap, 
which,  in  his  eagerness  to  go,  he  had  forgot- 
ten to  bring,  nor  how  one  of  Mr.  Walters' 
little  girls  plunged   headlong  into  a  pot  of 


68      THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS   GUESTS. 

butter  in  her  haste  to  find  a  seat.  It  isn't 
necessary  either  to  describe  the  flutter  and 
bustle  and  the  shouting  as  the  whips^were 
cracked,  and  the  cry  arose:  "Now  we're  off." 

There  were  two  sled-loads,  drawn  by  two 
oxen  each,  starting  from  points  ten  miles 
apart,  and  expecting  to  meet  at  the  junction 
of  the  two  roads,  when  they  would  proceed 
in  company. 

The  sled-loads  were  just  alike,  with  this 
difference,  that  Mr.  Winterwood's  four  chil- 
dren were  all  boys,  and  Mr.  Walters'  children 
were  all  girls.  At  Mr.  Larch's  there  was 
rather  a  better  division,  for  there  were  three 
boys  and  three  girls. 

Well,  they  have  started,  and  we  must  im- 
agine ourselves  now  up  on  the  top  of  some 
high  mountain  looking  down  upon  them  as 
they  move  along.  Off  here  to  the  right  is 
Mr.  Winterwood's  party,  off  there  to  the  left 
is  Mr.  Walters  and  his  tribe,  while  away 
off  beyond,  eagerly  waiting  their  coming, 
is  the  household  of  Mr.  Larch. 


THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS   GUESTS.      69 

The  first  mile  or  so  of  their  way  was  as 
merry  as  it  could  be,  but  presently  down 
came  the  snow.  Such  a  snow  as  it  was ! 
It  seemed  to  come  down  in  shovelfuls.  It 
was  blinding — bewildering — be  any  thing. 

The  oxen  became  white — the  folks  in  the 
sleds  were  piled  around  with  it,  and  soon  the 
roads  became  so  heavy  with  it  that  the  pa- 
tient beasts  could  scarcely  pull.  But  on  and 
on  they  went,  not  however  without  many  a 
dread  on  the  part  of  the  wiser  of  the  parties 
that  it  would  soon  become  so  deep  that  they 
would  be  checked  entirely. 

At  length,  however,  Mr.  Winterwood's  sled 
got  as  far  as  the  junction  of  the  two  roads, 
where  was  a  deep  dark  forest  of  hemlock- 
trees,  whose  wide-spreading  branches  spread 
out  as  umbrellas  and  kept  off  the  heavy 
flakes;  only  a  little  white  powdery  snow 
could  sift  in  over  the  brown  carpet  beneath 
the  trees.  It  was  a  pleasant  nook.  The 
squirrels  and  the  rabbits  kept  up  a  perpetual 
jollification  there,  and  it  was  even  reported 
that  fairies  had  been  seen  dancing  there  in 


70      THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS   GUESTS. 

the  moonlight,  on  summer  nights.  It  was 
too  cold  that  day  before  Christmas,  however, 
for  the  fairies  to  be  out;  for  you  know  their 
dresses  are  always  so  thin,  and  they  wear  no 
overcoats. 

The  tired  oxen  were  glad  to  rest,  and  as 
for  that,  so  were  the  people  in  the  sled;  even 
the  impatience  of  the  children  was  checked, 
and  they  were  happy  to  scramble  out  of  the 
sled,  and  be  rid  of  the  heavy  blanket  of  white 
that  completely  covered  them.  Mr.  Winter- 
wood  concluded  to  wait  there  for  the  arrival 
of  Mr.  Walters'  sled.  As  they  waited,  the 
snow  kept  on  falling  faster  and  faster,  as  if 
the  whole  of  some  planet  had  been  emptied 
out  on  the  earth.  [1.]  By  and  by  it  began 
to  grow  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  they  were 
beginning  to  be  afraid  that  Mr.  Walters  had 
turned  back,  when  they  heard  some  one  call- 
ing, and  presently  the  sled  with  its  contents 
came  in  sight.  It  was  hard  to  tell  that  it 
was  a  sled.  It  looked  just  like  a  great  snow- 
ball moving  slowly  along.  However,  it  was 
a  real  sled,  drawn  by  oxen,  and  real  people 


THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS  GUESTS.      71 

were  in  the  sled.  But  how  tired  they  weie! 
I  mean  both  the  people  and  the  oxen.  They 
had  had  a  harder  time  than  Mr.  Winter- 
wood's  party,  and  were  nearly  used  up.     [2.] 

Well,  what  was  to  be  done?  The  snow 
was  drifting  frightfully.  Just  beyond  the 
clump  of  trees,  where  they  found  shelter, 
they  eould  see  the  great  banks  of  white, 
covering  up  all  traces  of  the  road,  and  it 
seemed  too  full  of  peril  to  attempt  to  floun- 
der through  it.  But  then  what  a  disappoint- 
ment to  be  only  five  miles  away  from  where 
they  knew  good  cheer  and  welcome  awaited 
them,  and  yet  to  be  unable  to  get  any 
nearer. 

Some  of  the  younger  folks  were  for  push- 
ing on,  for  you  must  have  imagined  that 
there  were  various  Christmas  gifts  stowed 
away  somewhere  among  "  the  mince  pies 
and  things,"  that  they  wanted  to  get  out. 
One  of  the  little  girls  had  a  white  kitten, 
that  wasn't  among  the  mince  pies  however. 
It  was  safely  boxed  up  in  the  sled.  It  was 
intended  to  be  a  gift  to  a  small  boy  at  Mr. 


72      THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS   GUESTS. 

Larch's,  and  was  now  crying  piteously.  Poor 
kitten,  it  would  have  cried  still  harder  if  it 
could  have  realized  what  are  the  tender  mer- 
cies of  many  a  boy.  That  same  kitten  was 
subsequently  found  with  a  strip  of  red  flan- 
nel tied  to  its  tail,  and  harnessed  to  a  wooden 
cart,  trying,  but  trying  ineffectually,  to  draw 
its  master. 

The  elders,  after  going  to  the  edge  of  the 
wood,  and  taking  measurements  in  the  snow, 
decided  it  to  be  too  deep  to  go  on,  and  that 
the  night  must  be  spent  where  they  were. 
Possibly  they  could  proceed  in  the  morning 
when  the  snow  ceased  falling. 

When  this  decision  was  reached,  they  all 
set  to  work  to  make  themselves  comforta- 
ble. Now  it  was  a  very  different  task,  mak- 
ing themselves  comfortable  there,  from  what 
it  was  usually.  But  there  is  always  a  way 
when  there  is  a  will,  so  they  took  the  blank- 
ets and  buffalo  robes,  and  with  a  frame- 
work of  hemlock  boughs  soon  had  a  rude 
tent  made.  It  was  a  little  too  small,  but  it 
gave   fine   shelter   to   the   two   mothers,  the 


THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS   GUESTS.      73 

babies,  and  the  girls,  while  the  men  and 
boys  leaned  the  sleds  up  against  the  trees, 
and  found  very  fair  shelter  in  that  way.  A 
blazing  fire  in  front  of  the  tent  sent  cut  its 
genial  warmth  and  thawed  them  out. 

By  and  by  they  were  very  merry,  and  a 
great  deal  happier  than  they  thought  they 
could  have  been  under  such  circumstances. 
The  great  big  baskets  containing  their  lun- 
cheon were  brought  out,  and  although  they 
had  to  take  snowballs  instead  of  coffee  or 
tea  or  milk,  they  had  rather  a  good  supper, 
and  presently  betook  themselves  to  bed. 

Now  their  beds,  be  it  understood,  were  not 
fine  mattresses  nor  warm  feathers,  but  hem- 
lock boughs.  But  what  the  beds  lost  in  soft- 
ness, they  made  up  in  fragrance;  and  every 
one  slept  tolerably  well,  although  towards 
morning  the  boy  with  the  swollen  nose  tried 
another  summersault,  and  this  time  struck 
against  a  side  of  a  sled  and  blackened  his 
other  eye. 

When  the  morning  dawned,  the  wind  was 
moaning  through   the   trees,    but  the   snow 


74      THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS   GUESTS. 

had  ceased.  The  sun  presently  arose  upon 
as  white  a  Christmas  Day  as  was  ever  seen. 
All  traces  of  the  earth  had  disappeared,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  the  whiteness  were  intended 
to  symbolize  the  purity  of  that  Birth  in  the 
manger. 

But  although  the  snow  had  ceased,  it  was 
too  deep  to  go  on,  and  it  seemed  as  if  they 
must  wait  just  where  they  were,  and  spend 
their  Christmas  in  the  woods. 

Fortunately  they  had  great  mince  pies  they 
were  carrying  as  gifts  to  Mrs.  Larch,  and 
quantities  of  other  eatables  were  produced 
from  the  baskets. 

There  was  no  help  for  it  but  to  devqur 
the  things  they  had  intended  as  Christmas 
gifts. 

Of  course  I  do  not  mean  the  cat,  for  that 
was  reserved  for  another  fate.  The  appe- 
tites of  the  party  were  by  no  means  dimin- 
ished by  their  night  in  the  woods,  but  stead- 
ily, steadily,  the  mince  pies  and  the  cold 
turkeys  disappeared.  It  wasn't  a  bad  break- 
fast  either,    even    though    they    sat    on    the 


THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS   GUESTS.      75 

ground,  and  moistened  each  mouthful  with 
a  nibble  of  snow. 

The  children  thought  it  the  jolliest  Christ- 
mas breakfast  they  had  ever  taken,  and  the 
older  people  thought  it  might  do  for  a 
change,  but  they  wouldn't  like  it  as  a  steady 
thing. 

After  they  had  finished,  Mr.  Winterwood 
gathered  them  all  together,  and  conducted 
a  service  for  Christmas  Day.  It  was  a  new 
way  of  keeping  the  festival  of  the  Christ 
Child — there  in  the  woods  around  a  great 
fire.  But  their  worship  was  none  the  less 
acceptable  to  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem  because 
it  was  not  rendered  in  stately  cathedral  or 
in  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  Church.  They 
were  in  God's  temple, — a  temple  not  made 
with  hands. 

The  few  simple  carols  they  had  learned 
rang  out  clear  and  full  upon  the  wintry  air; 
and  a  rabbit  or  two  and  a  gray  squirrel 
hearing  the  melody  drew  courteously  near, 
and  looked  approvingly  on. 

The  sober  oxen  as  they  munched  the  hay 


76      THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS   GUESTS. 

that  had  fortunately  been  spread  in  the  sleds, 
seemed  to  the  children  to  reproduce  the  cat- 
tle that  once  looked  wonderingly  on  where  a 
Child  lay  in  the  manger  of  a  stall.     [3.] 

There  was  a  sermon  too ;  a  sermon  not  by 
a  clergyman,  but  by  a  layman;  for  when  the 
service  was  ended,  Mr.  Walters  arose,  and 
this  is  what  he  said: — 

"  Dear  ones  all, — Here  we  are  this  white 
Christmas  morning  snowed  up  in  the  woods, 
but  even  here  our  hearts  can  be  filled  with 
gladness,  for  we  rejoice  that  the  dear  Lord 
came  down  from  heaven  to  be  a  little  child 
for  us. 

"  Sheltered  by  these  giant  trees,  we  look 
out  upon  the  billows  of  snow  yonder,  and 
think  of  the  Avorld  that  slept  while  in  the 
shed  of  a  humble  inn  the  virgin  mother 
pressed  her  babe  to  her  bosom.  The  world 
was  as  unconscious  then,  as  the  snow  is  now, 
of  the  blessing  that  had  come  to  men. 

"  Here  we  are  shut  in,  while  now  in  myr- 
iads of  places  the  echoing  choruses  of  hymns 
and  psalms  ascend  to  God  in  praise  for  Hie 


THE   BELATED   CHRISTMAS   GUESTS.      77 

best  gift  to  men.  But  even  here  perhaps  we 
are  not  alone,  for  it  may  be  that  in  the  soli- 
tude of  this  place  there  are  heavenly  visitants, 
the  angels  of  the  Lord,  who  are  speaking 
good  things  to  our  hearts,  and  singing  anew 
the  anthem,  '  Peace  on  earth,  good- will  to 
men.' " 

That  was  the  end  of  the  sermon,  but  it  was 
not  intended  to  be  the  end. 

He  had  a  great  deal  more  to  say,  but 
just  at  that  instant,  while  all  were  listen- 
ing intently  to  him,  there  arose  an  im- 
mense shout.  [4.]  What  was  it?  Where 
did  it  come  from?     Who  raised  it? 

Then  it  was  repeated  louder, — nearer. — 

They  sprang  to  their  feet,  ran  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  sound,  and  what  to  their  de- 
lighted eyes  should  appear  but  Farmer  Larch 
with  all  his  hired  men,  in  a  double  yoked  ox 
team. 

They  had  been  up  ever  since  daylight,  and 
had  been  breaking  their  way  through  the 
drifts,  and  had  caught  sight  of  the  belated 
guests  just  as  Mr.  Walters  was  in  the  midst 


78      THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS   GUESTS. 

of  his  sermon.  He  never  finished  that  ser- 
mon, but  always  declared  that  even  though 
Mr.  Larch  and  his  hired  men  were  not  an- 
gels, their  shout  was  an  angel's  shout,  for  it 
was  good-will  towards  men. 

Well,  the  noise  that  disturbed  the  Christ- 
mas sermon  was  nothing  now  to  that  with 
which  the  relief  party  was  welcomed.  Even 
the  two  quiet  mothers  with  the  babies  raised 
their  voices,  and  added  to  the  din,  when  it 
was  reported  that  the  road  was  now  clear. 

The  boy  with  the  two  black  eyes  and  the 
swollen  nose  seriously  contemplated  trying 
another  summersault,  but  he  was  caught  in 
time  to  save  his  neck. 

Well,  they  made  a  triumphal  march  of 
it.  They  left  two  sleds  in  the  woods,  har- 
nessed the  eight  oxen  in  couples  to  one  sled, 
and  then  all  piled  in. 

It  was  a  jam,  but  upon  great  occasions 
flesh  and  blood  are  very  compressible.  It 
was  certainly  so  in  this  case.  They  all  got 
in,  and  they  all  got  out  again,  for  the  kitten 
had  escaped,  and  the  little  girl  whose  treas- 


THE   BELATED  CHRISTMAS   GUESTS.      7f> 

ure  she  was,  was  weeping  bitterly.  How- 
ever, they  soon  found  the  pussy  comfortably 
dozing  by  the  dying  embers  of  the  fire,  and 
she  was  captured,  and  relentlessly  carried  to 
her  fate 

Off  they  went.  Why,  it  was  the  noisiest 
party  that  ever  went  over  that  five  miles' 
road. 

A  poor  little  rabbit  hearing  the  din,  peeped 
out  of  a  hollow  tree  where  he  had  crept,  but 
was  so  frightened  that  he  drew  in  his  head, 
and  never  looked  out  again  until  next  day. 

Two  squirrels  on  a  tree  were  so  shocked 
that  they  tumbled  over  backwards  into  a 
deep  snow  bank,  and  never  knew  how  they 
got  there. 

But  it  was  the  merriest  Christmas  Day  that 
ever  was  spent,  and  young  and  old  never  re- 
gretted that  they  were  belated  Christmas 
guests  in  the  woods  along  the  Mohawk. 


ROBERT  ROUNCE'S  CHRISTMAS, 


ROBERT  ROUNCE'S  CHRISTMAS. 


=>X«C 


N  the  coast  of  Maine  there  is  a 
fishing  village  known  as  Wins- 
kogan.  It  is  beautifully  situated, 
but  its  inhabitants  are,  or  rather 
were,  some  years  ago  when  this  story  opens, 
of  the  roughest  sort.  The  men  spent  most  of 
the  pleasant  weather  away  from  home  fish- 
ing, and  the  long,  cold  winters  were  passed 
around  the  stove  of  a  miserable  drinking 
place  known  as  Billy  Brown's  Bunk. 

The  women  were  an  untidy  set,  addicted 
to  gossiping,  quarrelling,  and  fighting.  Tho 
children  who  grew  up  in  the  wretched  homes 
of  Winskogan  were  any  thing  but  attractive. 
The  highest  ambition  of  most  of  the  boys 
was  to  become  old  enough  to  go  with  their 
fathers    to    Billy    Brown's    Bunk,    while    the 


Si  ROBERT    ROUNCE's   CHRISTMAS. 

girls  were  fast  following  in  the  footsteps  of 
their  mothers. 

They  were  altogether  as  unpromising  a  set 
of  children  as  could  anywhere  be  found. 

Strangers  whom  business  called  to  the  vil- 
lage made  their  way  out  of  it  as  soon  as 
they  could,  and  no  summer  guests  could  be 
found  to  spend  the  summer  months  there, 
although  there  are  few  spots  on  the  New 
England  coast  so  thoroughly  beautiful. 

A  graceful  indentation  in  the  shore  line 
formed  a  bay,  in  the  centre  of  which  was  an 
island  covered  with  grand  old  trees.  The 
beach  was  strewn  with  the  finest  white  peb- 
bles, while  back  of  the  village  a  gently  slop- 
ing hill  was  carpeted  in  summer  with  the 
richest  verdure.  Beyond  the  hill  was  a  lake 
of  fresh  water,  abounding  with  fishes,  and 
making  a  skating  surface  in  winter  as  cleai 
as  crystal  and  as  smooth  as  glass. 

But  the  people  of  the  place,  intent  only 
upon  getting  enough  to  eat,  and  indulging 
their  debased  natures,  failed  to  enjoy  the 
beautiful    scenery,    and    they   were   so   disa 


ROBERT   ROUNCES   CHRISTMAS.  8o 

greeable  as  neighbors,  that  no  visitors  came 
among  them  except  those  who  found  it  ab- 
solutely necessary,  such  as  an  occasional  mer« 
chant  to  collect  a  bill,  or  a  peddler  to  sell 
his  wares. 

Sunday  was  like  any  ordinary  day  in 
Winskogan,  except  that  the  fights  and  sprees 
were  more  frequent  then  than  at  other  times. 
There  was  no  church,  and  no  minister  ever 
visited  the  village,  even  for  an  occasional 
service. 

Strange  to  say,  however,  in  this  debased 
settlement,  where  the  name  of  God  was  rare- 
ly uttered,  except  in  oaths  and  curses,  and 
where  all  the  influences  were  downward, 
there  was  one  boy  who  was  an  exception 
to  the  others  in  many  things.  His  name 
was  Robert  Rounce.  His  parents  were  just 
like  the  other  parents  there, — -just  as  unclean, 
just  as  neglectful  of  themselves,  just  as  vi 
eious.  Robert  was  fourteen  years  old  when 
our  story  opens,  fourteen  in  the  early  part 
of  December.  He  was  the  leader  of  the  boys 
in  all  their  plays,  but  would  never  lead  them 


80  ROBERT   ROUNCE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

upon  any  of  their  thieving  or  fighting  ex- 
peditions. He  was  just  as  ragged  and  dirty 
as  they  were,  but  they  could  never  make 
him  lie  or  steal. 

"W  lien  they  wanted  a  leader  in  some  evil 
doings,  and  such  occasions  were  very  fre- 
quent, they  put  Dick  Lay  at  their  head. 
Dick  was  about  as  bad  as  a  boy  could  well 
be  at  sixteen.  He  could  swear,  and  had 
often  fought  in  a  ring. 

These  were  the  two  leaders  of  the  boys  of 
Winskogan.  In  all  sports  and  games  Bob 
Rounce  led  them,  but  when  there  was  a 
plot  to  steal  eggs,  to  sink  a  boat,  or  to  have 
a  fight,  they  were  led  by  Dick  Lay.  Per- 
haps it  would  be  well  to  describe  the  per- 
sonal appearance  of  the  two  boys.  Bob  was 
of  fair  size  for  one  of  his  years.  He  had 
light  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  when  his  face 
was  clean  it  was  tolerably  handsome.  Sel- 
dom, however,  was  it  clean.  Generally  it 
was  smudged  and  smeared,  and  his  hair 
hung  in  a  tangled  mass  over  his  forehead. 
His  garments  huns'  in  tatters  about  him,  and 


ROBERT   ROUNCE'S  CHRISTMAS.  87 

were  always  too  large  for  him,  having  first 
done  service  for  his  father.  You  might  have 
seen  him  almost  any  evening  in  summer 
towards  dark  wending  his  way  homeward 
with  a  pair  of  oars  over  his  shoulder,  or  if  it 
was  winter  he  might  have  a  big  jack-knife 
in  one  hand,  and  a  piece  of  wood  in  the 
other,  industriously  carving  out  the  model 
of  a  ship.     [1.] 

If  you  saw  him  once  you  would  know  him 
again. 

Pick  Lay  was  a  larger  boy,  broad  shoul- 
dered, dark  haired,  and  rather  more  ragged 
than  the  others.  There  was  usually  a  frown 
upon  his  face,  and  nearly  every  one  felt  like 
giving  him  a  kick  or  a  blow,  for  if  any  thing 
was  lost,  or  any  one's  pig  was  turned  out 
of  the  pen,  or  any  other  mischief  done,  it 
was  thought  at  once  that  Dick  had  a  hand 
in  it,  or  knew  something  about  it.  You 
would  certainly  not  forget  Dick's  appearance 
after  once  seeing  him.     [2.] 

About  the  beginning  of  one  December  the 
whole   village  of  Winskogan  was  in  a  fer- 


88  ROBERT   ROUNCE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

ment.  Three  new  families  had  arrived  in 
this  country  from  England,  and,  knowing  the 
landlord  of  some  of  the  houses  in  the  village, 
had  been  induced  by  him  to  go  and  occupy 
three  of  his  cottages  that  were  vacant.  The 
three  fathers  had  been  fishermen  in  the  old 
country,  and  they  overlooked  the  forbidding 
character  of  Winskogan  in  the  prospect  which 
they  saw  before  them  of  earning  a  living  by 
their  nets. 

The  cottages  of  which  they  took  possession 
were  situated  near  the  brow  of  the  hill  over- 
looking the  lake.  They  had  long  been  va- 
cant, no  strangers  caring  to  live  in  so  wicked 
a  neighborhood. 

These  three  families  were  good  people,  and 
members  of  the  church.  The  children  num- 
bered in  all  nine  girls  and  seven  boys;  a 
healthy,  rugged  party,  fond  of  fun,  but  well 
trained  and  orderly. 

The  winter  had  set  in  cold  and  crisp  when 
they  came,  and  the  children  were  soon  busy 
with  their  skates  and  sleds  on  the  pond,  and 
as  happy  and  as  merry  as  children  could  be, 


ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS.  89 

except  when  they  came  in  contact  with  the 
groups  of  boys  who  regarded  their  occupa- 
tion of  the  pond  as  an  intrusion. 

Dick  Lay  proposed  driving  them  from  the 
pond  altogether,  but  somehow  or  other  "the 
little  Englishers,"  as  they  were  called,  seemed 
so  merry  and  so  harmless  that  no  one  was 
quite  ready  to  injure  them,  although  they 
often  were  hooted  at  and  worried. 

From  the  day  the  children  came,  they  were 
a  complete  fascination  to  Bob  Rounuu  He 
would  watch  them  by  the  hour  at  their 
sports,  but  for  a  long  time  no  persuasion 
would  induce  him  to  come  near  them.  He 
kept  at  a  distance,  and  watched  and  ad- 
mired, and  when  the  other  boys  were  rude 
would  drive  them  back  and  stand  guard  over 
"the  little  Englishers."  Gradually,  however, 
their  kind  approaches  overcame  his  diffi- 
dence, and  he  would  now  and  then  join 
them  in  their  plays,  but  still  he  preferred 
standing  off  and  watching  them  with  admir- 
ing glances. 

At  length  the  day  before  Christmas  came. 


90  ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS. 

and  there  was  great  bustle  and  excitement 
in  the  cottages  on  the  hill.  The  three  moth- 
ers were  busy  preparing  plum  puddings,  and 
the  three  fathers  were  just  as  busy  pulling 
the  feathers  off  the  wild  turkeys  they  had 
shot  that  day  in  the  woods. 

The  children  were  huddling  themselves  up 
with  cloaks  and  hoods  and  overcoats,  pre- 
paring to   go   out  to   find   Christmas   trees. 

Just  as  they  were  ready  to  start,  one  of 
them  exclaimed — "  Say,  boys  and  girls,  let's 
get  Bob  Eounce  to  go  with  us.  He'll  know 
where  to  find  'em."  "Why,"  said  another, 
"you  can't  get  near  enough  to  him.  He's 
so  shy."  "Let's  go  down  to  his  house  any- 
how" said  a  third,  and  so,  laughing  and  chat- 
tering and  skipping,  on  they  went  to  get  Bob 
Kounce.  [3.]  Presently  they  reached  the  cot- 
tage, knocked  at  the  door,  and  heard  some 
one  inside  call  out — 

"  Come  in,  why  don't  ye  ?  " 

It  almost  frightened  them,  the  tones  were 
so  gruff,  but  they  mustered  courage  and  went 
in.     Faugh!  how  it  smelt  offish,  and  tobacco 


ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS.  i»l 

and  whiskey.  The  smell  nearly  took  their 
breath.  On  one  side  of  the  fireplace  was  a 
great  tall  man,  seated  on  a  stool,  mending 
a  net.  Bustling  around,  with  a  short  clay 
pipe  in  her  mouth,  was  an  ugly,  coarse-feat- 
ured woman.  Two  dogs  raised  their  heads, 
and  growled  at  the  children. 

"  What  you  want  ? — say,"  screamed  the 
woman. 

"  Please,  ma'am,"  said  little  Julia,  one  of 
the  party,  "we  want  Robert." 

"  Who's  Robert  ?  "  cried  the  woman  coming 
towards  them. 

"Why,  your  little  boy,  ma'am;  we  want 
him  to  go  with  us  to  get  some  Christ- 
mas trees,"  George,  the  oldest  of  the  boys, 
said. 

"Ye  mean  our  Bob,  do  ye?  Well  he's  not 
to  home  now.  What's  Krisnis  trees?  We 
don't  have  any  sich  things  as  them  here." 

"  Don't  you,"  timidly  replied  one  of  them, 
"why,  we  always  had  'em  at  home,  and  we 
can't  just  tell  where  to  find  'em  here,  and 
so  we  want  your  boy  to  go  with  us." 


92  ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS. 

The  woman  looked  at  the  children  with 
strange  surprise,  and  the  man  dropped  his 
net  on  the  floor. 

Christmas  trees !  It  was  a  new  idea  to 
them,  but  before  they  could  have  it  further 
explained,  the  door  opened,  and  Bob  came 
in,  blowing  his  fingers  and  slapping  them 
on  his  breast  to  make  them  warm.  When 
he  saw  the  children,  a  broad  grin  spread 
itself  over  his  face,  but  without  a  word  he 
shrank  into  a  corner,  and  looked  at  them 
with  wondering  eyes. 

"  See  here,  Bob,"  said  his  mother,  "  these 
here  children  wants  you  to  git  'em  some 
kind  of  a  tree  they  calls  Krisnis  tree.  I 
don't  know  nothing  'bout  it;  but  jest  you 
go  with  'em  and  see  wot  it  is." 

Bob's  cap  was  on  his  head  in  a  moment, 
and  with  one  bound  he  was  out  of  the  door, 
but  there  he  stopped. 

"  Krisnis  tree ! "  said  he,  "  ain't  got  none 
here.  Is  it  willers?  Does  yer  want  willers 
for  to  make  baskets  with?" 

"  No,"  replied  one  of  the  boys.     "  We  want 


ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS.  93 

some  green  trees  to  hang  pretty  things  on, 
and  to  light  up.  To-morrow  is  Christmas. 
You  go  out  to  the  woods  with  us  and  we 
will  show  you  what  we  are  after." 

Bob  was  never  more  perplexed  in  his  life. 
If  they  had  asked  him  about  boats,  or  fishes, 
or  nets,  he  could  have  told  them  any  thing 
they  wanted  to  know ;  but  Christmas  trees ! 
Well,  they  were  new  to  him;  but  the  children 
gathered  around  him,  and  their  manner  was 
so  kindly  and  their  good  humor  so  inspir- 
ing that  with  a  laugh  he  darted  off  towards 
the  woods,  and  the  merry  party  after  him. 

Like  one  required  to  do  something  in  the 
dark,  or  like  a  bachelor  asked  to  hold  a 
baby,  Bob  started  away  to  the  woods  to  find 
Christmas  trees;  something  green  was  all  he 
had  in  mind,  and  he  knew  that  hemlocks 
and  cedars  were  green  in  winter. 

His  legs  were  swifter  than  the  children's, 
and  the  group  that  ran  after  him  could  hardly 
keep  up  with  him.     [4.] 

But  when  any  one  would  tumble  in  the 
unnw.  Bob  would  stop  and  help  him  up,  the 


94  ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS. 

broad  grin  of  pleasure  never  leaving  his  face. 
He  had  led  many  a  party  of  dirty,  rough 
boys,  but  never  had  he  been  the  leader  of 
such  a  merry,  happy  set. 

We  can  not  stop  to  tell  the  many  strange 
thoughts  he  had  as  he  skipped  along  up  the 
hill,  along  the  edge  of  the  pond,  down  the 
road,  and  across  the  fields  to  the  great  woods 
beyond.  Nor  can  we  tell  how  he  cudgelled  his 
brains  to  understand  Christmas  and  Christ- 
mas trees. 

At  length,  as  they  entered  the  woods,  the 
children  screamed  out, 

"  Oh,  there  they  are.  What  beauties ! " 
and  he  saw  them  rush  up  to  a  great  branch- 
ing hemlock,  and  begin  to  lop  off  some  of 
the  low  branches. 

In  his  eagerness  to  know  what  they  want- 
ed to  do  with  these  great  green  boughs,  his 
shyness  vanished  and  he  asked — 

"  Wot's  it  going  to  make.  Yer  can't 
burn  it." 

"  No,  Bobby,"  one  answered,  "  we  don't 
want  to  burn  the  boughs,  but  we  want  them 


ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS.  95 

for  Christmas.  That's  to-morrow,  and  you 
shall  come,  and  see  one  of  them  all  lighted 
up,  and  trimmed  with  nice  things.  Don't 
you  keep  Christmas  too  ?  " 

"Don't  know  what  it  is,"  poor  Bob  con- 
fessed. 

The  children's  turn  to  be  amazed  came 
now,  for  they  never  expected  to  see  a  boy 
who  really  knew  nothing  at  all  about  Christ- 
mas. One  and  then  another  poured  into  his 
astonished  ears  the  story  of  Christmas — how 
Christ  was  born  in  a  manger — how  the  an- 
gels sang  on  that  blessed  morning  long  ago 
— how  the  shepherds  left  their  flocks  and 
came  to  the  manger — how  the  church  bells 
pealed  forth  their  merry  chimes  every  Christ- 
mas Day  in  their  old  home — and  how  they 
used  to  sing  carols  in  the  old  church  at 
home.  Why  they  had  so  many  things  to 
tell  him  that  the  poor  boy's  brain  was  all  in 
a  muddle,  and  he  asked  if  the  angels  grew 
on  Christmas  trees,  and  if  the  church  chimes 
rang  in  the  children's  stockings. 

It  was  a  veiy  merry  walk  home,  each  with 


96  ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS. 

a  good  branch  of  hemlock  on  his  shoul- 
der. [5.]  Even  Bob  had  one,  although  he 
had  no  idea  what  to  do  with  it  when  he  got 
home  or  where  he  would  put  it.  He  was 
sure  his  mother  would  burn  it  up,  or  per- 
haps his  father  would  cut  off  a  big  switch, 
and  save  it  to  whip  him  with. 

By  and  by,  as  the  little  party  reached  the 
pond,  one  of  them  proposed  that  they  should 
sing  their  old  Christmas  carols.  "It  will 
make  the  folks  think  of  home,"  they  said. 

They  paused  a  minute,  and  then  out  in 
the  gathering  twilight  carolled  forth  the 
Christmas  songs  they  had  learned  in  old 
England.  [6.]  By  the  time  they  had  fin- 
ished singing  two  or  three,  the  lights  were 
lighted  in  the  cottage  windows,  and  the  great 
fires  within  cast  their  ruddy  glow  over  the 
group,  making  a  picture  of  rare  beauty.     [7.] 

"  Good  night,"  "  Good  night,"  "  Thank  you, 
Bob,"  "  Come  to-morrow  and  see  the  trees 
lighted  up." 

Bob  started  off  home  with  his  head  almost 
bursting  with  the  new  ideas  they  had  put 


ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS.  97 

into  it,  and  presently  dashed  into  the  hut 
where  he  lived  with  the  Christmas  tree  on 
his  shoulder.  Just  as  he  expected,  there  was 
a  row  about  his  bringing  such  a  thing  home. 
"  We  ain't  no  room  for  it."  "  Out  with  it," 
his  mother's  shrill  voice  cried.  The  poor  fel- 
low begged  and  implored  that  he  might  be 
permitted  to  keep  it,  and  then  began  the 
most  singular  jumble  of  Christmas  talk  any- 
one ever  heard.  He  told  his  astonished  par- 
ents about  a  Kris  Kringle  coming  up  out 
of  a  stocking  and  filling  a  chimney  with 
candies  and  toys — about  trees  singing  songs 
up  in  the  old  church  towers — about  bells 
lighted  up  with  hundreds  of  lights — about 
angels  keeping  watch  over  sheep — and  shep- 
herds flying  through  the  air. 

It  was  a  curious  jumble,  but  there  was  one 
point  he  did  get  straight.  He  remembered 
clearly  about  the  One  who  was  born  in  a 
stable,  and  the  gentle  mother  who  cradled 
Him  in  a  manger,  and  in  his  own  rough  way 
he  tried  to  sing  one  of  the  carols  he  had 
heard  the  children  sing. 
7 


i)8  ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS. 

His  parents  thought  the  boy's  wits  were 
leaving  him,  but  when  they  saw  his  earnest- 
ness and  delight  they  felt  something  rising 
in  their  hearts  they  had  not  known  for  many 
a  year,  and  before  they  went  to  bed  that 
night  the  rough  father  spoke  more  gently 
than  he  had  spoken  for  many  a  day.  "  Mol- 
ly, 'pears  to  me  I've  hearn  all  that  before 
about  the  baby  in  the  manger.  My  mother 
used  for  to  tell  me  suthin'  like  it  afore  I 
corned  to  this  here  wild  place.  She  used  to 
tell  me  suthin'  like  it,  but  it's  putty  much  all 
kinder  knocked  out  of  my  head,  only  I  'mem- 
ber it  was  suthin'  like  that." 

And  there  by  the  flickering  firelight,  the 
rough  man  sat  down,  and  tried  to  recall  that 
mother's  words  about  the  manger  and  the 
babe.  Did  not  some  Christmas  angel  find  his 
way  to  that  hut  that  night  to  assist  the  mem- 
ory so  clogged  with  the  sins  of  later  years  V 
And  did  not  some  bright  wing  spread  itself 
out  to  give  sweeter  dreams  to  the  poor  boy 
who  that  day  had  heard  for  the  first  time  the 
sweet,  sweet  story?     [8.] 


ROBERT   KOUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS.      ,    99 

What  a  day  Avas  that  Christmas  to  Bob 
Rounce ! 

A  light  fall  of  snow  had  through  the  night 
covered  the  earth  with  a  pure,  fresh,  white 
mantle.  The  clear,  cold  air  was  inspiriting. 
It  was  an  ideal  Christmas  Day. 

As  the  afternoon  came  on,  and  it  was  hard 
for  Bob  to  wait  for  its  coming,  he  might  have 
been  seen  wending  his  way  to  the  cottages 
on  the  hill. 

It  was  evident  that  he  had  made  some 
attempts  at  improving  his  personal  appear- 
ance. His  hair  was  combed,  and  his  face 
and  hands  were  some  shades  lighter.  The 
rents  and  rags  were  still  in  his  garments, 
but  still  he  looked  brighter  and  smarter. 
When  he  reached  the  first  cottage  the  chil- 
dren saw  him  [9J,  and  bouncing  out  hurried 
him  in  to  the  cheerful  room  where  the  lire 
burned  so  brightly,  and  where  the  very  spirit 
of  good  humor  freely  abounded. 

The  first  object  that  greeted  his  eyes  was 
one  of  the  trees  he  had  helped  them  get,  ele- 
vated upon  a  table,  and  covered  all  over  with 


10(V      ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS. 

the  prettiest  toys  he  had  ever  seen.  Some 
of  them  were  the  children's  treasures  saved 
up  from  the  great  Christmas  trees  in  the  old 
church  at  home.  How  the  poor  boy's  eyes 
feasted  upon  the  sight !  So  great  was  his 
delight  that  he  gave  a  long,  loud  whistle, 
and  whirled  himself  around  and  around, 
while  his  rags  flew  out  like  streamers  on 
every  side  of  him.  And  as  he  in  this  quaint 
manner  expressed  his  joy,  the  children  scam- 
pered about,  clapped  their  hands,  and  laughed 
until  the  tears  streamed  down  their  cheeks. 

But  how  shall  we  describe  that  happy  af- 
ternoon? All  the  three  families  were  gath- 
ered together  in  the  same  cottage  and  a  mer- 
ry time  there  was.  They  gave  Bob  some 
plum  pudding,  and  so  many  other  nice  things 
to  eat  that  his  poor  stomach  must  have  won- 
dered at  the  unusual  food  that  was  crammed 
down  into  it.  Then  they  had  some  singing, 
and  after  awhile  one  of  the  fathers  read  the 
story  of  the  Saviour's  birth  out  of  the  Bible. 
After  this  came  games  and  stories  and  long 
and  happy  talks. 


ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS.        101 

Why,  it  was  a  new  world  for  Bob,  and  his 
big  eyes  looked  as  if  they  would  start  forth 
from  their  sockets,  while  his  ears  drank  in 
the  pleasant  things  he  heard. 

It  was  his  first  Christmas.  The  day  had 
come  and  gone  for  him  thirteen  times  before, 
"but  never  had  he  known  what  joy  it  could 
bring  until  now.  His  heart  was  thrilling 
with  a  new  gladness. 

When  he  went  home  in  the  pale  moon- 
light, he  scarcely  knew  whether  he  walked 
or  flew,  and  sometimes  he  had  to  pull  a  piece 
of  Christmas  cake  out  of  his  pocket,  and  take 
a  bite  to  see  if  he  was  not  dreaming. 

Was  there  ever  such  a  delighted  boy !  Out 
of  one  pocket  there  stuck  the  end  of  a  jump- 
ing-jack.  The  other  was  stuffed  with  cake. 
Around  his  neck  was  a  string  of  candy  toys, 
and  in  his  cap  one  of  the  children  had  put 
some  sprigs  of  evergreen.  He  was  a  perfect 
picture  of  gladness !  As  he  got  near  home, 
he  had  to  sit  right  down  in  the  snow,  to 
try  his  jumping-jack,  munch  his  cake,  and 
blow  his  tin  trumpet.     [10.] 


102        ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRIS1MAS. 

Well,  the  days  and  weeks  passed  on,  and 
with  them  came  many  changes.  The  new- 
comers to  Winskogan  were  not  content  to 
have  their  neighbors  remain  in  heathen  dark- 
ness, and  it  was  not  long  before  a  minister 
was  engaged  to  come  occasionally  and  preach 
the  Gospel  to  them. 

We  will  not  describe  the  amazement  of  the 
fishermen  as  they  flung  themselves  into  the 
old  boathouse  where  the  first  service  was 
held,  and  saw  the  minister  kneel  to  offer 
the  first  public  prayers  ever  offered  in  Wins- 
kogan ;  nor  need  we  tell  how  they  listened  to 
the  first  sermon  which  told  them  of  the  love 
of  Christ  for  sinners. 

Soon  there  was  a  Sunday  school,  and  then 
a  day  school.  Wonders  of  old  time  were  re- 
peated !  Miracles  seemed  wrought  again ! 
Billy  Brown's  Bunk  began  to  lose  its  custom- 
ers, and  ere  long  there  wasn't  a  dog  fight  on 
Sundays  in  the  whole  village.  Rags  began 
to  disappear,  and  people  came  out  in  clean, 
neatly -patched  garments.  Clean  faces  be- 
came  the   rule   among   the   children,  and  a 


ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS.        103 

general    brightening   up   spread   over  every 
one  and  every  thing. 

See  what  springs  up  there  the  next  au- 
tumn! 

Can  we  believe  our  eyes?  They  are  ac- 
tually building  a  chapel,  and  they  say  it  will 
be  ready  at  Christmas.  The  old  boathouse 
is  too  small  to  hold  the  people,  and  they  are 
hurrying  on  the  chapel  as  fast  as  they  can 
build  it. 

Day  by  day  the  work  goes  on !  Hammer- 
ing, sawing,  painting,  plastering!  Yes,  there 
it  rises,  a  neat  little  building,  and  it  will 
be  ready  by  Christmas.  Who  could  have 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing  in  Wiuskogan ! 
But  there  it  is,  and  prominent  among  the 
workers  we  see  Bob  Rounce.  [11.]  We 
hardly  recognize  him,  so  greatly  has  he 
changed.  And  who  is  that  with  him,  car- 
rying things  for  the  workmen  ?  Surely  we 
know  his  face.  Why,  bless  us,  it  is  Dick 
Lay!     [12.] 


104        ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS. 

And  now  it  is  Christmas  Eve  again,  and  a 
happy  group  of  children  and  older  people 
are  preparing  the  decorations  of  the  chapel 
in  Winskogan. 

"The  little  Englishers"  are  there,  directing 
hitherto  untutored  hands  in  the  mysteries  of 
trimming  the  evergreens  about  the  windows, 
the  arches,  and  the  doors,  and  putting  a 
glowing  inscription  on  the  walls.  Bobby 
Rounce's  father  has  remembered  the  story  his 
mother  told  him  so  long  ago.  It  is  all  fresh 
now,  and  he  is  here  to  help.  His  shrill- 
voiced  wife  has  somehow  or  other  toned 
down  to  a  more  modest  pitch,  and  her  shrill 
scream  is  seldom  heard.  She  is  helping  too. 
Why,  they  are  all  helping!  Great  strong 
men,  and  as  strong  women,  whom  hardship 
and  past  excesses  had  once  well  nigh  brutal- 
ized are  there  to-night,  grown  gentler,  and, 
if  we  may  judge  by  their  eager  interest 
to-night,  they  will  welcome  the  glad  Christ- 
mas morning  with  a  joy  they  have  never 
known  before.  But  hark !  The  trimming 
has  ceased.     Sweet  strains  of  music  are  float- 


ROBERT   ROUNCE'S   CHRISTMAS.        105 

ing  through  the  little  chapel  this  Christ- 
mas Eve.  [13.]  Hark !  They  are  singing 
a  carol !  Louder  and  louder  it  grows  as  one 
and  another  takes  up  the  strain. 

New  voices  have  caught  the  melody.  Bob 
Rounce  and  Dick  Lay,  and  many  more  who  a 
year  ago  knew  not  the  glad  tidings,  are  now 
singing  with  gladness  this  Christmas  Eve. 
We  know  not  whether  choirs  of  angels  come 
again  to  earth,  but  we  can  almost  fancy  as 
these  voices  in  the  chapel  stop  their  singing 
that  an  angel  host  have  taken  up  the  old 
song,  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on 
earth  peace,  good- will  towards  men."     [14] 


How  THE  CREW  OF  THE  SEA  GULL 
SPENT  CHRISTMAS  EVE. 


wn;r 


HOW  THE  CREW  OF  THE  SEA  GULL 
SPENT  CHRISTMAS  EVE. 


»CK° 


UT  on  the  ocean,  on  the  day  before 
Christmas  of  1830,  a  sailing  vessel 
known  as  "The  Sea  Gull,"  with 
canvas  all  set,  was  making  her 
way  swiftly  towards  the  harbor  of  Harbor- 
port. 

The  voyage  had  been  a  profitable  one, 
and  now  the  crew  were  filled  with  happy 
thoughts  of  warm  firesides  at  home,  and 
hearty  Christmas  greetings  from  old  friends 
and  companions.  They  expected  to  cast  an- 
chor in  the  harbor  early  the  next  morning, 
and  by  the  time  the  church  bells  were  ring- 
ing, would,  if  all  went  well,  go  ashore,  and 
join  the  Te  Deum  which  they  thought  they 
could  sing  all  the  more  heartily  for  their  sale 


110    HOW  THE  CREW   OF  THE   SEA  GULL 

return  from  the  perils  of  the  sea.  But  as  it 
grew  towards  dusk  on  that  Christmas  Eve, 
and  when  they  Avere  but  a  few  miles  from 
the  harbor,  a  great  blinding  storm  of  hail 
and  snow  came  rolling  down  upon  them  from 
the  North,  and  blew  them  out  to  sea. 

The  sails  were  lowered,  and  for  weary 
hours  the  vessel  was  driven  by  the  wind 
they  knew  not  whither. 

It  was  a  frightful  storm  and  had  come 
upon  them  almost  without  warning.  The 
great  flakes  of  snow  came  down  upon  the 
decks,  and  now  and  then  a  dash  of  hail 
would  cut,  as  with  knives,  the  faces  and 
hands  of  those  who  had  to  stay  on  deck. 

The  wind  whistled  and  moaned  through 
the  cordage  and  the  cold  waves  fairly  leaped 
over  the  vessel,  as  if  they  were  pursuing 
fiends  intent  upon  her  destruction.     [1.] 

It  was  a  night  of  terror.  The  best  that 
could  be  done  was  to  keep  the  vessel  out  of 
the  trough  of  the  sea,  and  trust  to  Him  who 
holds  the  winds  in  the  hollow  of  His  hands. 

Would    the    storm    never    cease?     Would 


SPENT   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  Ill 

there  be  no  change  ?  Where  would  they 
be  driven  to?  Alas,  they  could  not  answer; 
and  their  hearts  sank  with  disappointment 
as  they  thought  of  the  homes  to  which  they 
were  once  so  near,  but  now  were  so  rapidly 
leaving. 

Dismay  seized  them  as  they  found  them- 
selves driven  so  furiously  onward,  and  as 
they  thought  of  the  perils  of  collision  with 
other  vessels,  and  of  the  possibility  of  being 
dashed  upon  some  rocky  shore. 

But  on  and  on  went  the  ship,  due  south- 
ward, with  the  full  force  and  swiftness  of 
the  storm.  As  if  a  giant  had  hurled  her  on, 
so  went  she  in  her  headlong  rush  with  the 
storm. 

It  grew  so  dark  presently  that  they  could 
no  longer  see  the  white  snow,  although  it 
kept  falling  in  heavy  flakes  mingled  with 
the  cutting  hail.  It  was  such  a  night  of 
peril  that  the  stoutest  hearts  among  them 
began  to  lose  hope,  and  to  fear  lest  their 
Christmas  should  find  them  engulfed  be- 
neath the  cold  waves.     They  never  expected 


112    HOW  THE  CREW   OF  THE   SEA  GULL 

to  see  the  land  again.  But  they  were  nearer 
the  land  than  they  supposed,  for  in  the  very 
height  of  the  fury  of  the  storm  there  was  a 
crash  that  loosened  every  timber  in  the  ship, 
and  she  was  driven  high  up  upon  the  beach 
of  an  island  off  the  coast. 

The  ship  staggered,  and  trembled,  and 
then  careened  over  upon  her  side,  and  there 
they  were,  somewhere,  they  knew  not  where, 
out  of  the  depths  of  the  sea  among  the  break- 
ers on  the  beach.  Strange  that  they  did  not 
hear  the  breakers  before,  but  then  the  din 
of  the  storm  had  been  so  loud,  and  their 
terror  had  been  so  extreme,  that  the  break- 
ers' roar  had  been  unperceived,  and  beside 
no  human  skill  or  power  could  have  changed 
their  course.  On  the  island  they  went  head- 
long, and  there  they  were. 

When  they  had  recovered  somewhat  from 
the  shock,  and  had  collected  their  scattered 
senses,  they  found  the  vessel  beached  far 
up  where  the  water  was  not  so  very  deep, 
and  where  upon  the  recession  of  the  waves 
her  bow  was  but  a   short  distance  in  the 


SPENT   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  113 

water.  Expecting  that  she  would  go  to 
pieces,  they  concluded  to  get  to  the  land 
if  possible.  It  was  a  difficult  feat  to  do  so, 
but  one  by  one  they  climbed  out  upon  the 
bowsprit,  and  watching  their  chance,  at  the 
moment  of  the  receding  of  the  waves,  they 
swam  and  waded  as  best  they  could  to  the 
shore. 

Not  a  light  was  visible,  and  not  a  sound 
except  the  roaring  of  the  breakers,  the  rush 
of  the  storm,  and  the  whistling  of  the  wind 
through  the  shrouds  of  the  deserted  vessel. 

They  were  on  shore  at  last,  and  out  of  the 
perils  of  the  deep,  but  they  were  not  much 
better  off  after  all,  for  all  were  wet,  and  cold, 
the  night  was  dark  and  not  a  place  of  shelter 
could  they  find. 

But  they  groped  along,  wearily  climbed 
over  the  line  of  sand  hills  that  bounded  the 
beach,  and  at  length  stumbled  into  a  deep 
hollow  in  the  sand  where  they  were  some- 
what protected  from  the  cold  winds,  and  the 
colder,  cutting  hail. 

Here  they  huddled  together  and  waited, 
8 


114    HOW  THE  CREW  OF  THE  SEA  GULL 

waited  for  what?  They  knew  not  what, 
only  they  waited ;  to  keep  themselves  warm- 
er, they  dug  with  their  cold  fingers  into  the 
sand,  and  partly  buried  their  bodies.  It 
was  but  a  poor  device,  but  perhaps  it  kept 
them  from  perishing.  [2.]  But  by  and  by 
came  a  change.  They  noted  the  gradual 
dying  down  of  the  storm.  The  blasts  came 
less  frequently  and  towards  midnight  there 
was  a  calm.  The  angry  waves  still  kept  up 
their  roar,  but  the  storm  was  over.  It  was 
however  inky  blackness  all  about  them,  save 
that  here  and  there  a  star  began  to  twinkle 
through  a  rift  in  the  clouds.  But  they  knew 
not  where  to  go  or  what  to  do,  and  so  re- 
mained huddled,  and  buried  together  in  the 
hollow  of  the  sand-bank. 

After  a  time,  one  of  their  number  raising 
his  head  fancied  he  saw  a  moving  light  land- 
ward. He  told  the  others,  and  they  stretched 
their  necks,  and  peered  in  the  direction  he 
pointed  out. 

Sure  enough  it  was  a  light,  but  what  was 
it?     See,  there  is  another,  and  another,  and 


SPEIST   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  115 

now  a  score,  moving  along  nearer  and  nearer 
towards  them. 

What  are  they  ?  Who  carry  them  ?  Is  it 
a  wrecking  party  of  men  with  pirate -like 
feelings  who  have  seen  the  wreck  and  come 
to  plunder  the  helpless  crew? 

They  can  not  tell,  but  at  length  resolve  to 
get  out  of  their  sandy  graves,  and  accost 
those  who  carried  the  lights. 

As  they  straighten  their  stiffened  limbs, 
and  shake  off  the  heavy  wet  sand  that  en- 
cumbers them,  a  burst  of  music  reaches 
their  ears — the  words  of  an  old  carol  which 
they  had  often  sung  at  home  in  days  gone 
by.  They  listen  with  perfect  transport  of 
joy,  and  when  the  chorus  is  reached  raise 
their  own  weak,  trembling  voices,  and  join 
with  all  their  might.     [3.] 

But  what  an  effect  their  singing  has  had 
upon  the  party  with  the  lights !  They  have 
ceased  in  terror,  and  with  one  accord  have 
taken  to  their  heels,  and  are  rushing  towards 
the  village. 

While  the  two  parties  are  in  this  position, 


11(3    HOW  THE   CREW   OF   THE   SEA  GULL 

I  must  pause  and  tell  you  who  they  were 
who  carried  the  lights. 

There  was  a  fishing  village  on  the  island, 
numbering  about  two  hundred  souls;  and  for 
many  years  it  had  been  the  custom  for  the 
young  fishermen  to  go  around  to  the  differ- 
ent cottages  in  the  scattered  village  on 
Christmas  Eve  singing  carols. 

On  this  night  of  which  I  have  been  telling 
you,  they  were  almost  discouraged  by  the 
storm  from  following  out  their  usual  custom, 
and  waited  disconsolately  in  the  cottage  of 
one  of  their  number  until  the  midnight  had 
come.  But  when  they  were  about  abandon- 
ing their  intended  serenade,  and  separating 
each  for  his  own  house,  they  found  that  the 
storm  was  over,  and  so  were  on  their  way 
to  awaken  the  sleeping  families  with  their 
bursts  of  Christmas  music. 

It  was  the  first  carol  they  had  sung,  when 
the  chorus  was  so  strangely  taken  up  by  the 
voices  in  the  sand-bank. 

Now  you  must  remember  that  fishermen 
are  usually  superstitious  folk,  and  when  they 


SPENT   CHRISTMAS    EVE.  117 

heard  the  echo  of  their  music  from  the  voices 
in  the  bank,  they  at  once  concluded  that  the 
sea  had  rolled  up  its  dead  that  Christmas  Eve 
in  the  storm,  and  that  the  dead  had  joined 
the  song  of  the  living  in  honor  of  the  natal 
day. 

So  did  this  conviction  take  possession  of 
them  that  they  expected  to  see  the  dead, 
with  glassy  eyes  and  shrunken  features,  but 
strangely  endowed  with  life  this  Christmas 
morning,  wrapped  in  the  garments  which 
the  sea  had  wound  around  them  as  they 
rolled  about  in  rocky  caverns  beneath  the 
deep  waters. 

And  so  the  carollers  took  to  their  heels 
and  ran,  heedless  of  the  imploring  voices 
the  shipwrecked  party  sent  after  them. 

It  was  a  strange  scene.  The  terrified  sing- 
ers hastening  back  to  the  village.  The  crew 
of  the  vessel  following  on  as  fast  as  their 
benumbed  limbs  would  permit.  One  party 
shouting  in  terror ;  the  other  imploring  them 
to  stop  and  listen.     [4] 

The  noise  they  made  finally  aroused  the 


118    HOW  THE  CREW  OF  THE  SEA  GULL 

people  of  the  village,  and  lights  began  to 
appear  at  one  window  and  another.  Here 
and  there  a  door  was  timidly  opened,  and 
a  head  thrust  out,  inquiring,  "  What  is  the 
matter  ?  " 

At  last,. the  carollers,  as  they  reached  the 
main  part  of  the  village,  took  up  eourago 
enough  to  turn  and  face  the  party  whom 
they  expected  to  find  with  ghastly  counte- 
nances, and  skeleton  forms.  But  instead  of 
meeting  the  dead,  they  saw  the  living.  In- 
stead of  seeing  frightful  forms,  they  saw  a 
party  of  men  coated  with  sand, — feeble  and 
wet  and  harmless. 

All  the  previous  terror  of  the  fishermen 
now  became  changed  to  joy,  when  they  saw 
that  their  superstitious  fears  were  ground- 
less, and  that  they  had  to  deal  with  living 
men.  It  required  but  a  few  questions  to 
understand  the  situation,  and  in  the  shortest 
time  the  whole  village  was  aroused. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  divide  the  ship- 
wrecked party  around  among  the  warm- 
hearted families   of  the   island.     It  did  not 


SPENT   CHRISTMAS   EVE.  119 

take  long  to  build  great  blazing  fires  on 
the  hearths.  It  did  not  take  long  to  strip 
off  the  wet  garments,  and  exchange  them 
for  dry  ones,  and  to  provide  meat  and  drink 
for  the  hungry. 

The  Christmas  morning  had  almost  dawned 
before  the  excitement  died  down,  and  the 
village  had  sunken  again  to  its  wonted  quiet. 

Early  in  the  morning,  the  bent  form  of 
the  old  clergyman  who  was  the  pastor  of 
this  secluded  flock,  was  seen  passing  around 
from  house  to  house  to  greet  the  new-comers, 
and  to  exhort  them  to  thankfulness  to  God 
for  their  safe  deliverance  from  the  perils  of 
the  sea.     [5.] 

When  the  hour  of  service  came,  every  seat 
in  the  little  chapel  was  filled,  and  the  choir 
in  the  organ  gallery  was  augmented  by  the 
crew  of  the  wrecked  vessel.  New  gladness 
seemed  to  pervade  every  heart,  and  the  ser- 
vice rolled  on  with  deeper  impressiveness, 
for  the  people  seemed  to  welcome  in  the 
persons  of  the  saved  crew,  the  person  of  the 
Christ  Child,  who  ever  identifies  Himself  with 


120         THE   CREW'S   CHRISTMAS   EVE. 

the  suffering.  I  wish  I  could  describe  to  you 
the  singing  on  that  Christmas  morning. 

There  was  no  sermon,  for  the  old  clergy- 
man said:  "My  friends,  we  will  have  no  ser- 
mon to-day,  for  our  carollers  had  a  strange 
interruption  last  night  in  their  greetings  to 
Christmas  Eve — and  now  they  will  have  op- 
portunity to  finish.  Our  brethren  who  have 
been  thrown  into  our  arms  by  the  sea,  will 
help  them  make  melody  unto  the  Lord." 

Then  for  a  whole  hour  that  old  wooden 
chapel  rang  with  the  music  of  old  time 
Christmas  carols.  [6.]  Why,  it  was  a  very 
feast  of  music.  No  one  stopped  to  consider 
how  artistic  it  was,  but  there  was  a  depth 
and  tone  to  it  all  that  made  the  simplest  of 
their  songs  almost  entrancing. 

Why  was  it  so? 

Simply  this — the  rescue  of  a  few  men  from 
the  jaws  of  the  mighty  deep  impressed  them 
all  with  the  mightiness  of  the  greater  rescue 
which  He  accomplished  who  became  man, 
and  saved  us  from  the  death  eternal. 


AUNT  KITTY'S   CHRISTMAS  TREE 


AUNT  KITTY'S   CHRISTMAS  TREE. 


oXKc 


jVERY  body  called  her  Aunt  Kitty, 
although  in  truth  she  wasn't  any 
body's  aunt,  at  all,  for  she  had  not 
s  relative  in  the  world.  But  she 
was  so  good  and  so  kind  that  any  one  would 
have  thought  it  an  honor  to  have  claimed 
kinship  with  her.  She  was  very  poor  and 
very  old.  The  old  age  she  could  not  help, 
that  had  to  come ;  but  the  poverty  she  might 
have  helped,  if  only  she  had  been  a  little  bit 
dishonest.  Yes,  at  the  time  her  husband 
died,  shG  had  the  opportunity  to  save  some 
of  the  wreck  of  his  property.  Some  of  her 
advisers  told  her  just  how  she  could  conceal 
it,  and  the  creditors  would  have  been  none 
the  wiser.  But  she  gave  up  every  fraction 
of  it,  and  went  out  into  the  world  to  seek  her 


121      AUNT   KITTY'S   CHKIbTMAS   TREE. 

own  living  in  her  old  age,  poor,  but  with  no 
taint  of  dishonor.  She  had  resisted  the  great 
temptation,  and  her  conscience  was  free  from 
reproaches. 

Few  of  the  people  in  the  village  of  Bland- 
stone  knew  her  past  history.  They  only 
knew  her  as  a  poor  old  body  who  went  ont 
sewing,  and  taking  care  of  sick  folks.  She 
rented  two  rooms  in  a  house  on  a  back  street, 
at  one  end  of  the  village,  in  a  neighborhood 
where  every  one  was  nearly  as  poor  as  she 
was,  except  that  some  went  into  the  strug- 
gle for  bread  with  greater  strength  than  she. 
But  to  none  of  them  was  the  daily  bread 
given  by  "  Our  Father  in  heaven "  more  un- 
failingly than  to  her.  She  trusted  Him,  and 
He  saw  that  she* was  fed.  Now  and  then 
she  had  more  than  she  needed,  and  some 
poor,  sick  sufferer  would  be  helped  from  her 
supply. 

Of  course  she  was  a  great  favorite  in  the 
place.  Many  a  one  would  gladly  have  of- 
fered her  a  home  with  them,  but  she  pre- 
ferred keeping  her  own  rooms  and  her  inde 


AUNT   KITTY'S   CHRISTMAS   TREE.      125 

pendence,  and  thus  it  happened  that  she 
lived  alone.  Not  entirely  alone,  for  there 
were  two  big  cats  that  purred  contentedly 
beneath  her  stove,  or  slept  in  the  sunny  win- 
dows. [1.]  Now  and  then,  some  wanderer, 
some  child  or  woman,  would  find  a  shelter  in 
her  house,  for  a  few  days,  to  be  warmed  and 
fed  and  sent  on  rejoicing.  It  was  strange 
how  the  wanderers  found  her  out,  but  they 
did. ,  If  a  poor  widow  was  on  her  way  to 
the  city  to  collect  a  pension,  she  was  almost 
sure  to  find  shelter  with  Aunt  Kitty.  If 
some  young  girl  was  hunting  a  place  to 
work,  she  would  make  her  home  with  Aunt 
Kitty  until  she  found  one. 

Many  were  the  blessings  which  were  sup- 
plicated upon  her  head,  and  if  she  did  not 
enjoy  them  all  here,  perhaps  they  await  her 
yonder.  Although  she  had  no  children  ot 
her  own,  she  was  the  friend  of  all  children. 
They  stopped  their  plays  to  speak  to  her, — 
they  brought  their  cuts  and  burns  to  her  to 
be  bound  up — and  many  a  torn  jacket  and 
breeches  did  she  mend  that  the  young  ciil- 


126      AUNT   KITTY'S   CHRISTMAS   TREE. 

prits  might  not  be  punished  at  home  for 
rents  that  come  so  mysteriously,  but  eome 
so  certainly,  in  a  boy's  clothes. 

There  were  some  pretty  rough  boys  too 
in  that  part  of  the  village,  but  somehow  she 
had  reached  their  hearts,  perhaps  through 
their  stomachs,  and  they  were  her  loyal 
friends.  Many  a  quarrel  among  them  did 
she  stop,  and  many  a  damaged  eye  did  she 
bandage  when  the  fights  were  over  which 
she  had  failed  to  stop. 

Aunt  Kitty  got  a  new  idea  one  day  as  De- 
cember was  hastening  on  to  Christmas-tide. 
All  at  once  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  would 
have  a  Christmas  tree  for  the  poor  children 
of  that  street. 

Now  Christmas  trees  are  usually  costly  af- 
fairs when  they  are  all  trimmed,  as  we  gen- 
erally see  them.  But  her  tree  could  not  be 
a  costly  one.  It  must  bear  very  inexpen- 
sive fruit.  If  her  purse  had  been  larger  she 
would  have  made  it  a  very  beautiful  tree,  or 
if  she  bad  askoi  anv  of  the  c\infih  people  of 


AUNT   KITTY'S   CHRISTMAS   TREE.      127 

the  village  they  had  helped  her,  but  she 
wanted  to  do  the  best  she  could  with  what 
she  had,  and  so  she  kept  the  whole  matter 
to  herself,  as  she  thought,  a  profound  secret. 
Not  even  the  boys  were  to  know  about  the 
tree  until  Christmas  really  came. 

The  poor  old  hands  were  wonderfully  busy 
during  those  two  weeks  before  Christmas. 
Little  pieces  of  bright  materials,  the  rem- 
nants of  dresses  she  had  once  worn,  some- 
how grew  into  dolls  and  dolls'  clothing.  Out 
of  an  old  chest  she  fished  up  a  few  pictures 
and  toys  which  had  long  lain  there  undis- 
turbed. A  few  little  purchases  at  the  vil- 
lage shop  added  to  the  treasures  she*  was 
accumulating.  Then  the  smell  of  baking  in- 
dicated that  gingerbreads  in  wondrous  shapes 
were  being  made  ready.  It  was  hard  to  sat- 
isfy the  inquisitiveness  of  the  small  visitors, 
whose  noses  scented  the  appetizing  odors, 
and  who  wanted  to  know  what  Aunt  Kitty 
was  cooking.  But  no  satisfaction  could  they 
get.  Aunt  Kitty  had  a  secret,  and  she  was 
keeping  it,  she  thought,  all  to  herself,  and 


128      AUNT   KITTY'S   CHRISTMAS   TREE. 

was  preparing  a  grand  surprise  for  the  dozen 
boys  and  girls  who  were  her  neighbors.  [2.] 
But  isn't  it  hard  to  keep  a  secret  ?  And  isn't 
it  strange  how  they  will  leak  out  ?  And  are 
not  people  very  shrewd  in  putting  this  and 
that  together  and  guessing  a  great  deal? 

While  the  old  woman  was  stitching  away 
at  dolls  and  baking  gingerbreads,  there  were 
three  boys  who  were  just  as  busy  planning, 
and  circumventing  the  scheme  which  she 
had  been  laying  out.  Perhaps  we  ought 
not  to  say  that  they  were  circumventing 
her  scheme;  it  is  true  their  putting  their 
heads  together  was  going  to  make  a  change 
in  it,  but  we  will  see  how  it  was  presently. 

These  three  boys  were  brothers,  one  was 
big,  another  was  little,  and  one  Avas  neither. 
They  were  the  sons  of  a  wealthy  widow  lady 
who  lived  in  the  heart  of  the  village,  and 
were  all  three  of  them  trying  to  be  a  comfort 
and  a  joy  to  their  mother.  They  were  chor- 
isters in  the  choir  of  the  church,  and  it 
seemed  to  give  a  greater  depth  to  their 
mother's  devotion  as  she  teard  their  voices 


AUNT   KITTY'S   CHRISTMAS   TREE.      129 

singing  week  by  week  in  the  church  services. 
One  day  as  one  of  them  was  in  the  village 
store  buying  a  new  top,  and  talking  with 
the  queer  old  man  who  sold  the  odd  things 
kept  there,  Aunt  Kitty  came  in,  and  with 
a  very  mysterious  air  bought  a  few  toys 
which  she  tried  in  vain  to  conceal  from  the 
sharp  eyes  of  Clarence  Wood.     [3.] 

"Now  what  can  she  want  with  toys?" 
thought  Clarence.  "She  don't  need  them 
for  herself.  What  is  she  going  to  do  with 
them  ?  " 

Now  nothing  can  exceed  the  curiosity  of 
a  boy,  so  all  the  rest  of  that  day  he  won- 
dered what  Aunt  Kitty  could  be  intending 
to  do  with  those  toys.  When  it  became 
night  he  told  his  brothers,  John  and  Frank, 
and  they  made  up  their  minds  to  find  out 
if  they  could.  After  many  plans  had  been 
proposed  and  discussed  they  resolved  to  take 
up  a  bag  of  chestnuts  and  some  apples  to 
Auntie  the  very  next  day,  and  see  what 
she  was  really  going  to  do  with  the  toys. 

They  sust  <-oted   that  she  had  some   good 


130      AUNT   KITTY'S   CHRISTMAS   TREE. 

project  afoot,  and  already  the  desire  was 
springing  up  in  them  to  help  her  on  with 
it.  .  [4] 

But  to  all  their  questionings  she  returned 
indefinite  answers,  and  they  started  to  go 
away  unsatisfied,  but  just  as  they  were  leav- 
ing the  door  they  caught  sight  of  the  end 
of  a  great  bunch  of  cedar  peeping  out  of 
the  cellar  window. 

"Aha,  I  see  now,"  said  John.  "Aunt  Kitty 
is  going  to  have  a  Christmas  tree."  And  so 
they  ran  home,  and  set  to  work  as  hard  as 
they  could  to  get  things  ready  for  that 
Christmas  tree,  for  they  said  as  they  went 
along — "  Let  us  make  it  a  real  jolly  tree. 
It  must  be  for  the  poor  children,  and  we'll 
have  a  hand  in  it." 

They  told  their  mother,  and  a  few  others, 
and  as  if  by  magic  great  heaping  baskets 
were  filled  with  all  sorts  of  things. 

But  as  yet  they  did  not  know  when  it 
was  to  be,  nor  how  they  could  get  at  it. 
But  they  were  shrewd  fellows,  and  kept 
their  eyes  open 


AUNT   KITTY'S   CHRISTMAS   TREE.      131 

Finally,  on  Christmas  Eve,  they  strolled 
along  down  by  Aunt  Kitty's  house,  and 
saw  that  both  rooms  were  lighted  up.  In 
the  lower  room  a  dozen  or  so  of  boys  and 
girls  were  sitting  around,  and  in  the  upper 
.Room  they  could  just  distinguish  through  the 
white  curtain  the  outline  of  the  Christmas 
tree  on  a  table  near  the  window. 

"I  have  it,"  said  Clarence,  "we'll  run  home, 
get  the  things,  put  them  on  the  tree,  and  then 
see  how  the  frolic  will  end." 

So  back  they  went,  got  the  baskets  and 
a  ladder,  hurried  again  down  the  village, 
and  began  operations. '  It  was  a  very  deli- 
cate operation,  climbing  up  into  the  second 
story,  but  the  house  was  low,  and  they  had 
the  satisfaction  of  getting  in  without  making 
any  noise.  [5.]  They  could  hear  the  chil- 
dren chattering  down-stairs,  and  just  as  they 
had  fairly  laden  the  poor  tree  with  the  many 
things  they  had  brought,  they  heard  Aunt 
Kitty  say,  "  Now,  children,  I'm  going  to  take 
you  up-stairs  to  show  you  something  that 
you  all  will  like  to  see."     The  boys  up-stairs 


132      AUNT   KITTY'S  CHRISTMAS   TREE. 

hastily  concealed  themselves  in  a  closet  among 
the  dresses  hanging  there,  and  had  just  time 
to  do  so,  as  Aunt  Kitty  came  in,  with  the 
children  flocking  after  her.  Now  you  must 
remember  that  when  the  good  old  auntie 
had  last  seen  the  tree  it  was  almost  bare. 
The  few  things  she  had  been  able  to  make 
ready  were  by  no  means  enough  to  cover 
its  many  branches.  But  now  what  a  change ! 
It  was  fairly  loaded  down !  Caps  and  scarfs, 
gloves  and  stockings,  dolls  and  skates — why, 
almost  every  thing  you  could  think  of  was 
fastened  to  it. 

With  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  as  great 
as  that  the  children  themselves  raised,  she 
ran  to  the  table. 

Who  had  been  in  her  room?  Who  had 
brought  these  things?  Was  there  really  a 
Santa  Claus?     [6.] 

And  there  she  stood  amazed.  Her  senses 
seemed  to  have  deserted  her.  She  thought 
it  all  a  dream,  but  the  noisy  shouts  of  the 
children  roused  her  to  herself,  and  she  said; 
"Dear  children.  I  oar.  not  tell  how  it  is.     I 


AUNT   KITTY'S   CHRISTMAS   TREE.      133 

made  ready  a  few  things  for  you,  but  the 
good  Lord  in  some  strange  way  has  sent 
all  this." 

What  else  she  would  have  said  no  one 
knows,  for  just  at  that  moment,  bang  went 
something  against  the  closet  door,  and  out 
rolled  Clarence  on  the  floor.  He  had  not 
been  able  to  contain  his  mirth,  and  in  a  fit 
of  laughter  had  leaned  too  hard  against  the 
door,  and  open  it  came,  rolling  him  out  on 
the  floor.     [7.]     . 

Auntie  saw  through  the  plan  now  at  once, 
and,  although  she  had  been  frightened  at 
first,  she  added  very  calmly,  "Yes,  the  good 
Lord  has  sent  the  things,  and  these  are  his 
agents." 

Well  we  need  not  stop  to  "tell  how  the  cul- 
prits gained  her  pardon  for  getting  into  her 
house,  nor  what  a  happy  time  there  was  in 
distributing  the  gifts.  There  was  a  rich 
abundance  for  all  the  children,  and  many  a 
comfort  for  the  good  auntie  herself. 

But  another  surprise  was  in  store  for  them 
all,  and   this   time  the  three   bovs  were  as 


134      AUNT   KITTY'S   CHRISTMAS   TREE. 

much  surprised  as  the  rest,  for  after  the  last 
of  the  gifts  had  been  distributed,  they  came 
down-stairs  to  find  it  filled  with  some  of  the 
good  people  of  the  village  who  had  quietly 
come  in,  bringing  baskets  laden  with  good 
things.  There  were  groceries,  and  wood, 
and  new  dresses,  and  a  warm  cloak.  Why, 
Aunt  Kitty  was  quite  fitted  out  for  the  long 
winter.     [8.] 

With  the  tears  streaming  down  her  eyes, 
she  said  to  her  unexpected  guests,  "The 
Lord  bless  you  all  for  your  kindness,  and 
may  the  dear  Christ  make  you  all  as  happy 
as  you  have  made  me." 


M) 


^^ 


REUBEN  REUBENSON'S  CHRISTMAS 
EVE. 


Wr/'/k 


REUBEN  REUBENSON'S  CHRISTMAS 
EVE. 

EUBEN  REUBENSON  was  a  cress, 
crusty    bachelor,    who    had    some- 
how managed  to  reach  his  fiftieth 
year  in  selfishness  and  solitude. 
He    claimed   kinship  with   no   one  living, 
and  no  one  cared  particularly  to  claim  kin- 
ship with  him. 

He  was  rich  in  this  world's  goods,  but  be- 
yond managing  his  bank  accounts,  and  keep- 
ing a  sharp  eye  upon  some  property  interests, 
he  had  no  business. 

Neither  had  he  any  settled  home,  but  float- 
ed about  from  place  to  place  as  his  own 
capricious  fancy  prompted  him. 

Now  he  was  here — now  he  was  there. 
Why  he  was   here   rather   than   there,   or 
why  he  was  there  rather  than  here,  it  would 


138  REUBEN    REUUENSON'S 

have  puzzled  any  one  to  tell.  Sometimes  he 
himself  could  not  tell.  The  slightest  reason 
was  sufficient  to  make  him  change  his  abode. 
A  disagreeable  rainy  spell,  the  sight  of  some 
poor  cripple,  an  appeal  for  help,  a  crying 
baby,  a  badly  prepared  dinner,  would  lead 
him  to  pack  up  his  trunk  and  move  off. 

Owing  to  these  frequent  changes  of  resi- 
dence, few  people  knew  him  well,  although 
his  face  and  his  oddities  were  well  known  to 
many,  and  they  spoke  of  him  as  the  queer, 
unhappy  old  man,  who  was  always  on  the 
wing. 

For  a  few  weeks  before  a  certain  Christmas 
season,  he  had  been  spending  his  time  very 
quietly,  and,  for  him,  very  comfortably,  in  a 
pleasant  boarding  place  in  the  town  of  Ross; 
but  his  comfort  was  utterly  destroyed  by  the 
arrival  of  some  Christmas  guests  at  the  house 
where  he  was  staying. 

These  guests  were  the  country  aunts  and 
cousins  of  the  keeper  of  the  boarding-house, 
and  had  come  to  see  the  sights  and  to  spend 
a  merry  Christmas  together. 


TV. 


CHRISTMAS    EVE.  139 

They  brought  with  them  a  baby,  a  blessed 
baby.  Now  it  has  been  said  that  a  babe  in 
the  house  is  a  well-spring  of  pleasure;  but 
this  baby  did  not  prove  to  be  entirely  so. 
It  was  one  of  those  irrepressible  creatures 
with  strong  lungs,  and  he  knew  how  to  use 
them. 

Without  any  warning  by  previous  whim- 
pers of  discontent,  gradually  rising  by  a  cres- 
cendo movement  to  a  generous  volume  of 
sound,  this  baby  was  capable  of  uttering  his 
howls  of  protest  suddenly,  savagely,  and  of 
prolonging  them  until  almost  all  memory 
of  other  sounds  was  obliterated,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  nothing  vocal  in  all  the  world 
but  that  one  red-faced  creature. 

Mr.  Reubenson  had  no  sooner  heard  one 
of  the  shrill,  startling  yells,  then  he  began 
to  pack  up  his  trunk  to  go. 

In  vain  the  landlady  protested  against  his 
leaving.  No  arguments,  no  appeals,  could 
induce  him  to  change  his  mind.  Go  he 
would. 

She  offered  to  ohange   hip   room,  to  send 


140  REUBEN   REUBENSON'S 

the  baby  home  as  soon  as  she  could,  but  it 
was  all  of  no  avail.  Even  her  offer  to  admin- 
ister sedatives,  ad  libitum,  to  the  baby  fell 
upon  deaf  ears,  and  at  length,  growing  out 
of  all  patience  with  her  boarder,  she  declared 
that  she  had  offered  to  do  every  thing  except 
to  strangle  the  child,  but  she  had  not  prom- 
ised that,  for  she  thought  if  any  one  stood 
in  need  of  strangling,  it  was  Mr.  Reubenson 
himself. 

Now,  putting  things  as  mildly  as  possible, 
this  was  rather  a  savage  remark  to  make, 
even  to  a  crusty  old  bachelor;  and  it  hast- 
ened very  greatly  the  packing  of  his  trunk. 

Before  another  hour  he  was  on  his  way  to 
the  railway  station.  When  he  reached  there, 
he  was  all  uncertain  which  route  to  take. 

There  had  been  an  accident  a  short  time 
before  on  the  Black  Creek  R.  R.,  and  his  fears 
would  not  let  him  go  over  that  route.  On 
the  Lake  Shore  road  he  had  once  been  great- 
ly disgusted  at  the  conduct  of  an  official,  and 
hence  that  way  was  out  of  the  question. 

In  very  desperation  be  concluded  to  try  a 


CHRISTMAS    EVE.  141 

new  road  which  had  just  been  opened,  al- 
though with  the  country  through  which  it 
ran  he  was  entirely  unacquainted. 

However  there  was  no  choice  now,  so  find- 
ing a  train  about  ready  to  start,  he  pulled  out 
his  pocket-book,  took  from  it  a  bank-bill,  and 
resolved  to  buy  a  ticket  for  as  far  as  that 
bank-bill  would  carry  him. 

It  was  an  odd  way  to  select  one's  place  of 
destination,  but  he  was  an  odd  man. 

The  ticket  agent  took  the  bill,  and  as 
saw  its  amount   said   interrogatively,    " 
want  to  go  to  Brierake?" 

"What  is  the  fare?" 

"Just  right,"  was  the  reply,  and  the  ticket 
was  received. 

Now  Mr.  Reubenson  knew  about  as  much 
concerning  any  place  called  Brierake  as  he 
did  of  the  mountains  in  the  moon.  It  might 
have  been  a  country  village,  it  might  have 
been  a  cross  road's  station,  for  all  he  knew; 
but  "  all  aboard "  shouted  the  conductor,  and 
our  traveller  started  for  Brierake,  little  dream- 
ing of  the  Htavf;'s  incidents  that  av.alt'.-d  hun 


142  REUBEN   REUBENSON'S 

at  the  end  of  his  winter's  journey,  or  of  the 
great  change  that  would  come  over  him  be- 
fore he  came  back. 

The  day  passed  as  most  winter  days  pass 
in  railway  cars.  The  short  afternoon  had 
faded  away  and  the  early  evening  was  creep- 
ing on  when  he  was  landed  at  Brierake 
station. 

There  was  little  of  the  village  or  of  any  set- 
tlement whatever  to  be  seen.  A  plain,  un- 
painted  station-house,  a  heavy,  awkward  sled 
drawn  by  two  sleepy  horses  muffled  up  in 
their  blankets',  a  queer-looking  teamster,  and 
an  old  woman  with  a  market  basket  and  the 
inevitable  bandbox — these  were  the  objects 
that  met  his  gaze.  Upon  inquiring  of  the 
teamster,  he  learned  that  the  village  itself 
was  some  three  miles  away,  and  that  the 
only  way  to  get  there  was  by  taking  pas^ 
sage  in  the  sled.  He  would  have  grumbled 
if  he  could  have  seen  any  use  in  grumbling, 
then  and  there,  but  it  is  dull  work  to  grum- 
ble on  the  platform  of  a  way  station  on  a 
cold   winter's   evening,    so   he   mounted  the 


CHRISTMAS   EVE.  143 

seat  of  the  sled,  pulled  up  the  collar  of  his 
overcoat,  wrapped  around  his  knees  the  old, 
torn  buffalo  robe  which  the  driver  handed 
him,  declined  the  offer  made  by  the  old  wo- 
man with  the  bandbox  to  take  a  pinch  of 
snuff — and  then  resigned  himself  to  what 
he  thought  would  be  a  dreary  three  miles 
ride. 

But  it  wasn't  dreary  at  all.  The  horses 
awoke  from  their  sleep  at  the  cheery  call  of 
the  driver,  and  dashed  off  smartly  Avith  vi- 
sions of  oats  and  hay  and  a  warm  stable  be- 
fore them.  The  bells  jingled  merrily.  The 
moon  began  to  rise  and  flood  the  earth  with 
a  silvery  beauty.  Presently  a  turn  in  the 
road  revealed  a  most  lovely  landscape.  The 
fields  and  road  covered  with  snow,  and  a 
green  border  of  tall  cedars.  The  traveller 
found  his  spirits  rising  with  every  inch  of 
the  way,  and  did  what  was  for  him  an  ex- 
ceedingly gracious  thing:  he  asked  the  old 
woman  by  his  side  if  she  were  warm  enough. 

She  was  a  garrulous  old  body,  and  the 
simple  question  put  to  her  launched  her  forth 


144  REUBEN    REUBENSON'S 

into  an  extended  account  of  herself  and  all 
her  family,  which  account  went  on  and  on 
and  on,  and  seemed  to  promise  no  ending. 
But  tedious  as  would  have  been  her  talk  at 
any  other  time,  Mr.  Reubenson  found  him- 
self listening  to  it  with  respectful  attention. 
What  spell  was  coming  over  him  that  he 
could  thus  patiently  listen  so  long  to  an  old 
woman's  story? 

Presently  they  came  to  the  bank  of  a  little 
frozen  stream,  over  whose  slippery  surface  a 
merry  group  of  skaters  were  gliding  with 
graceful  movements  and  cheery  shouts. 

So  charming  was  the  picture  they  thus 
presented  in  the  moonlight  that  he  was 
almost  on  the  point  of  asking  the  driver  to 
stop  awhile  that  he  might  enjoy  the  scene; 
but  now  the  lights  of  the  village  beyond  be- 
gan to  flash  forth,  and  the  horses  went  dash- 
ing on  faster  and  faster,  until  before  he  real- 
ized it  they  had  drawn  up  in  front  of  an  old 
inn — one  of  the  quaintest  hostleries  he  had 
ever  seen. 

Its  parts  seemed  ''oined  together  in  a  rara- 


CHRISTMAS    EVE.  145 

bling  sort  of  way  without  any  particular  de- 
sign, but  betwixt  the  ruddy  lights  from  its 
windows  and  the  moonbeams  which  streamed 
upon  it,  and  the  white  snow  which  covered 
its  roof  and  sheds,  it  bore  no  small  resem- 
blance to  a  place  of  enchantment. 

It  could  not  be  called  an  enchanted  pal- 
ace, nor  could  Keuben  Reubenson  be  called 
the  prince  wrho  had  come  to  awaken  the 
sleepers.  It  was  only  an  old  inn  upon  a 
winter's  night,  brightened  up  by  moonlight 
and  firelight;  and  he  was  only  a  crusty  old 
bachelor  whom  some  good  influence,  what 
it  was  he  could  not  tell,  was  thawing  out, 
and  making  more  mellow  and  more  sweet 
than  hitherto. 

It  is  needless  to  describe  how  the  hungry 
man  devoured  the  supper  so  quickly  spread 
for  him,  or  with  what  comfort  he  ensconced 
himself  in  the  great  arm-chair  before  the 
fireplace  in  which  there  was  blazing  a  wood 
fire  large  enough  to  roast  an  ox,  provided  the 
ox  was  not  very  large. 

Tiicro   he   sat    and    watched    the    flames. 


146  REUBEN    REUBENSON'S 

Presently  the  fire  as  it  crackled  and  darted 
out  its  long  tongues,  and  danced  before  him, 
seemed  wondrously  suggestive  of  just  such 
a  chimney-place  where  he  had  sat  many 
years  ago,  when  he  was  one  of  a  happy 
family  of  brothers  and  sisters  in  a  far-off 
home.  And  he  mused  of  the  days  so  long 
gone,  and  of  the  forms  which  had  been 
warmed  at  the  fire  of  that  old  home. 

What  had  come  over  him  to  so  unlock  the 
memories  of  the  past?  For  years  he  had 
sealed  up  these  recollections,  and  by  strong 
effort  of  will  had  remanded  them  back;  but 
now  how  he  welcomed  their  coming ! 

His  thoughts  grew  so  busy  with  the  past 
that  he  peopled  again  the  chimney-place 
with  the  departed,  and  it  was  as  if  he  were 
home  again.  Now  a  tear  went  stealing  down 
his  cheek  as  he  recalled  the  joy  of  that  home, 
and  now  his  lips  opened  as  if  he  would  speak 
to  those  who  had  sat  there  long  ago  with 
him.     [1.] 

The  hours  sped  by,  and  still  he  watched 
the  fire,  and  thought  of  the  past,  until  just 


CHRISTMAS    EVE.  147 

as  he  was  falling  off  into  a  sleep  there  came 
a  burst  of  music.     [2.] 

It  startled  him.  He  jumped  up  from  hia 
chair.     Where  could  it  have  come  from  ? 

And  in  his  bewilderment  he  stopped  to  see 
if  the  chimney  were  really  alive,  or  if  the 
crackling  fire  upon  the  hearth  had  become 
melodious  in  honor  of  the  nearing  festival. 
But  soon  the  music  grew  louder  and  clearer, 
and  presently  there  rang  out  in  joyous  notes 
the  sweet  voices  of  a  score  or  so  of  young 
people  in  the  street  outside  singing  their 
Christmas  carols.     [3.] 

Now  Reuben  Reubenson  ordinarily  had  but 
little  ear  for  music.  Once  he  had,  but  he  had 
let  the  sweet  sounds  within  him  die  out,  and 
even  children's  voices  had  become  but  a  wor- 
ry to  him.  But  to-night  he  had  passed  into 
a  strange  region.  He  had  been  led,  he 
scarcely  knew  how,  and  the  spell  of  the 
place  and  of  the  time  was  upon  him.  lie 
listened  greedily,  especially  as  he  thought 
that  the  tones  of  the  voices  were  wondrous- 
ly  like  those  of  his  own  brothers  and  sisters 


148  REUBEN    REUBENSON'S 

in  the  home  of  long  ago.  Carol  after  carol 
rang  forth  upon  the  crispy  air.     [4] 

Such  exuberance  of  joy,  such  unrestrained 
gladness  he  had  rarely  heard  thrown  into 
songs  before.  They  seemed  to  renew  his 
youth,  and  to  melt  off  the  icy  crust  of  selfish- 
ness which  had  gathered  with  his  manhood. 

The  carol  singers  outside,  all  unconscious 
of  the  effect  of  their  singing,  only  thinking 
of  the  gladness  of  the  festival,  uttered  forth 
their  joy  that  the  Christ  was  born  of  Mary 
in  David's  town.     [5.] 

Presently  they  passed  away,  still  singing. 

The  sound  of  their  voices  grew  fainter  and 
fainter,  until  they  seemed  as  a  gentle  lullaby 
which  a  mother  might  .sing  over  her  sleeping 
child.  [6.]  And  as  a  lullaby  did  the  vanish- 
ing sounds  become  to  him,  for  beneath  their 
soothing  influence  he  sank  to  sleep. 

But  it  had  been  strange  if  one  so  moved 
as  he  had  been  had  slept  soundly  that  night 
in  his  chair  before  the  fire. 

His  body  only  seemed  unconscious,  while  a 
thousand    recollections    rushed    through    his 


CHRISTMAS   EVE.  149 

busy  brain.  He  seemed  to  be  living  over 
again  his  boyhood  days,  waiting  with  boyish 
impatience  the  coming  of  Christmas  Day. 
He  saw  himself  as  a  boy  lying  awake  upon 
Christmas  Eve  in  his  bed  in  the  old  home, 
hoping,  yet  dreading,  that  he  might  see 
Santa  Claus  come  down  the  chimney. 

Then  he  seemed  to  be  again  one  of  the 
merry  group  of  children  whose  delighted  eyes 
looked  upon  the  Christmas  tree  laden  with  its 
strange  stores  of  wonderful  fruit.     [8.] 

Then  he  thought  himself  again  at  church  in 
England,  and  heard  the  old  hymn,  "0  come 
all  ye  faithful,"  which  he  and  the  other  choris- 
ters sang  as  they  marched  up  the  long  aisle 
of  the  church  on  Christmas  mornings.     [9.] 

And  as  he  dreamed  on  there,  how  real  it 
all  seemed — those  happy  boyhood  days  before 
he  had  grown  up  to  a  selfish  manhood;  but 
his  mind  travelled  on,  and  in  his  dreams  he 
saw  himself  leaving  his  home  to  better  his 
fortunes,  and  with  bettered  fortunes  losing 
the  impressions  of  home,  and  forgetting  the 
holy  things  he  had  learned. 


irO  REUBEN   REUBENSON'S 

He  watched  the  gradual  growth  of  selfish- 
ness, and  the  dying  out  of  the  spring  and 
hopefulness  of  early  manhood,  until  there 
arose  before  him  a  picture  of  what  he  was 
then,  that  Christmas  Eve,  a  cold,  ice-bound, 
self-indulgent  man,  with  no  aims  and  no 
hopes. 

It  was  a  repulsive  picture,  and  yet  he  was 
under  the  influence  of  some  power  that  made 
him  look  upon  it  in  all  of  its  repulsiveness. 
And  as  he  looked,  so  painful  did  the  view  be- 
come, that  he  awoke  with  a  start  from  his 
dream  to  find  the  fire  growing  low  on  the 
hearth,  and  himself  shivering  with  cold  and 
with  dread  of  the  horrible  picture  his  dreams 
had  brought  to  him. 

There  was  no  more  sleep  for  him  all  the 
rest  of  that  long  winter's  night.  He  paced 
the  floor  and  thought.  He  knelt  down  by 
his  chair  and  prayed.  He  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands  and  wept.  Then  he  resolved  that, 
through  the  grace  of  God,  he  would  be  a 
better  man.  He  thought  of  the  children  who 
had  sung  their  carols  before  his  window,  and 


CHRISTMAS   EVE.  151 

longed  to  be  as  happy  and  as  innocent  as 
they.  Then  he  began  to  plan  what  he  would 
do  to  make  amends  for  thirty  years  of  selfish- 
ness and  neglect — how  he  might  give  back 
to  God  some  portion  of  a  life  which  should 
all  have  been  God's — how  he  might  break 
through  the  icy  bands  which  froze  his  sym- 
pathies up  from  his  fellow -men  and  help 
along  the  echo  of  the  angels'  song — "  Glory 
to  God — peace,  good-will  to  man." 

It  was  a  memorable  night  in  the  history  of 
Reuben  Reubenson.  The  hours  sped  along, 
but  he  heeded  neither  the  darkness  nor  the 
cold.     His  mind  was  too  busy. 

His  heart  was  too  deeply  stirred.  His  one 
great  yearning  was  for  pardon  for  the  past, 
and  for  God's  blessing  for  the  future  that  he 
might  end  his  days  making  others  happy 

"  I  will  have  an  aim  in  living  and  it 
shall  be  a  noble  one.  So  help  me  God," 
he  said. 

What  a  bright  Christmas  morning  was 
that  which    dawned!     The   stars   went    out 


152  REUBEN   REUBENSON'S 

one  by  one,  as  lamps  no  longer  needed,  as 
the  day  began. 

The  gray  tints  touched  the  hill-tops,  and 
then  the  red  tints  of  the  rising  sun  bathed 
the  snow  in  crimson.     [10.] 

Presently  the  soft,  low  tones  of  a  bell  fell 
upon  his  ear,  announcing  that  pious  souls 
were  assembling  to  greet  the  Christmas  morn- 
ing withr  holy  rites  and  hymns  and  prayers. 

Passing  forth  from  his  room,  he  followed 
the  sound  of  the  bell,  and  found  himself  in 
the  little  chapel  whose  interior  was  bright 
with  the  adornments  of  evergreen  which 
busy  hands  had  grouped  around  arches  and 
windows. 

Not  a  soul  did  he  know  there  among  those 
who  had  come  to  worship,  and  yet  he  felt 
that  he  would  meet  his  Lord  there  to  Whom 
his  vows  had  been  renewed  that  Christmas 
Eve. 

None  knelt  more  reverently  in  prayer  to 
Him  who  had  come  into  the  world  a  little 
child,  who  had  taught  men  the  beauty  of 
self-sacrifice    ml  the  glory  of  a  holy  life. 


CHRlSTMAb    EVE.  153 

To  none  of  the  worshippers  was  bestowed 
«o  large  a  measure  of  grace,  for  the  battle 
Reuben  Reubenson  was  to  fight  was  with 
himself.  It  was  to  be  against  the  long  years 
of  hardness  and  selfishness,  and  he  needed 
especial  help  from  God. 

When  the  service  was  over,  and  the  min- 
ister was  counting  over  the  offerings  which 
had  that  morning  been  presented,  there  was 
found  among  them  in  the  alms-basin  four 
one  hundred  dollar  bills,  new,  and  crispy  in 
their  newness,  wrapt  up  in  a  leaf  torn  from 
a  memorandum-book. 

Upon  the  leaf  was  written  in  a  tremulous 
hand  with  pencil  these  words: — "An  offering 
to  God  for  his  goodness  in  leading  me,  partly 
through  the  sweet  voices  of  the  children  of 
this  place,  to  see  the  folly  of  a  life  of  selfish- 
ness. And  in  further  token  of  my  desire  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  my  days  to  the  glory 
of  God  and  for  the  welfare  of  men,  I  prom- 
ise to  contribute  a  like  amount  each  year,  to 
be  employed  in  training  the  children  of  this 
church  to  sing  hymns  and  carols  at  Christ- 


154  REUBEN    REUBENSON. 

mas-tide,  and  in  any  other  way  the  minister 
may  think  best  to  keep  young  hearts  from 
the  icy  bands  of  selfisnness  which  so  long 
held  sway  over  me." 
The  paper  was  signed — 

"Keuben  Keubenson." 


THE  MIDNIGH  Y  CHIMES. 


THE  MIDNIGHT  CHIMES. 


o*Kc 


I.     THE    CHIME-RINGER   S     STATEMENT. 


OU  see,  three  of  us,  Tom,  Ed,  and  I, 
Avent  up  into  the  church  tower  on 
Christmas   Eve  to  ring   the   bells 
for  Christmas. 
It  was  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before 
midnight  when  we  went  up. 

There  wasn't  a  soul  about  when  we  entered 
the  church.  It  was  lively  work  ringing  the 
bells,  and  we  pealed  out  carol  after  carol  for 
nearly  an  hour,  until  we  thought  if  we  were 
to  be  in  church  again  that  morning  we  ought 
to  get  home  and  go  to  sleep.  When  we  came 
down  the  tower  stairs  Tom  was  carrying  the 
lantern.  Just  as  he  got  to  the  last  step,  says 
he,  "Let's  look  in  the  church  and  see  if  the 
folks  finished  putting  up  the  greens." 


158  THE    MIDNIGHT    CHIMES. 

As  he  said  this  he  turned  the  bull's-eye 
of  the  lantern  towards  the  chancel,  but  in- 
stantly he  jumped  back. 

"What's  the  matter?"  I  said. 

Says  he,  "  See  there !  Bless  me,  if  it  ain't 
a  man  or  a  ghost ! " 

"  Pshaw !  '  Ed  says,  "  guess  you're  sleepy 
and  dreaming.  Else  you've  seen  your  own 
shadow." 

Well,  we  stood  there  till  Tom  made  his 
lantern  brighter,  and  sure  enough  there  was 
a  man  lying  down  on  the  floor,  way  up  near 
the  front  of  the  church.  I  tell  you  now  I 
felt  rather  queer  over  it.  How  did  he  get 
in  ?     What  did  he  want  ? 

There  was  no  use  standing  looking,  so  we 
plucked  up  courage  and  walked  up,  keeping 
pretty  close  to  each  other.  Was  he  asleep? 
Was  he  dead?  He  was  lying  on  his  face 
with  his  hands  stretched  out  before  him.  I 
thought  he  was  dead,  but  Tom  shook  him 
by  the  shoulder,  ,and  he  slowly  raised  his 
head.  He  was  a  young  fellow  like  one  of 
lis  but  he  was  awful  weak  and  sick-looking 


THE    MIDNIGHT    CHIMES.  159 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

All  the  answer  he  gave  was  a  groan,  and 
down  went  his  head  on  the  floor  again. 
Well,  we  tried  to  rouse  him  up,  but  he 
seemed  to  be  in  a  fainting  fit;  and  Ed 
thought  we  had  better  sprinkle  water  over 
him,  or  do  something.  But  you  see  we 
didn't  know  what  to  do,  and  we  couldn't 
find  any  water.  And  there  we  stood  around 
the  young  fellow  in  the  church,  early  that 
Christmas  morning.  The  bull's-eye  lantern 
seemed  to  make  the  shadows  of  the  arches 
jump  around  as  if  they  were  alive,  and  the 
evergreens  the  ladies  had  put  up,  made  it 
seem  awful  odd.  I  declare,  I  wished  I  was 
home  and  in  bed,  and  made  up  my  mind 
that  there  were  a  great  many  things  pleas- 
anter  than  finding  a  strange  man  in  a  faint- 
ing fit  on  a  church  floor,  early  on  Christmas 
morning. 

Something  had  to  be  done,  so  we  picked 
him  up  and  carried  him  over  to  the  hospital, 
and  left  him  there.  When  we  came  away, 
the  doctors  were  rubbing  him,    and  forcing 


160  THE    MIDNIGHT    CHIMES. 

medicine  down  his  throat,  but  he  couldn't 
speak  yet,  and  we  don't  know  who  he  is,  or 
what  he  wanted.  His  pockets  were  empty, 
and  his  clothes  were  pretty  well  worn  out. 
He  did  not  look  like  a  hard  drinking  fellow, 
but  he  appeared  to  have  seen  hard  times  for 
a  young  chap. 
And  that's  all  I  know  about  it. 

II.     THE     DOCTOR'S     STATEMENT. 

Early  on  Christmas  morning,  just  after  I 
had  fallen  to  sleep  again  after  having  been 
wakened  up  by  the  ringing  of  the  Christmas 
chime,  there  came  a  tremendous  rapping  at 
the  hospital  door,  and  I  hastened  down  to 
see  who  was  there.  I  found  three  young 
fellows,  who  had  been  ringing  the  church 
bells,  supporting  an  emaciated  man  evident- 
ly not  over  twenty-five  years  old,  who  seemed 
to  be  in  a  condition  of  great  exhaustion.  They 
had  found  him  in  the  church. 

After  a  thorough  examination,  I  found  no 
wounds  or  evidences  of  disease.  He  seemed 
to  be  simply  worn  out  by  hunger,  fatigue, 


THE    MIDNIGHT    CHIMES.  ltfi 

and  trouble.  It  was  a  long  time  before  I 
could  induce  him  to  speak,  but  towards  day 
dawn  he  seemed  to  rouse  up  a  little,  and 
looking  wildly  around  exclaimed: 

"  The  Christmas  Bells  !  Thank  God  !  " 
For  some  hours  after  this  he  remained  in 
an  insensible  condition,  and  then  began  slow- 
ly, but  steadily,  to  regain  strength.  He  main- 
tained silence  as  to  his  antecedents  for  a  long 
time,  but  expressed  great  gratitude  for  our 
efforts  in  his  behalf.  At  length,  just  as  the 
bells  began  to  ring  for  the  services  on  Christ- 
mas Day,  he  seemed  to  be  greatly  agitated, 
and  at  my  urgent  solicitation,  gave  me  an 
outline  of  his  story.     It  was  a  sad  story. 

He  was  of  good  family  in  England,  but 
owing  to  a  quarrel,  or  some  difficulty  which 
he  had  had,  he  suddenly  left  home  for  the 
new  world.  Reaching  here,  a  course  of  dis- 
sipation soon  used  up  his  means,  and  after 
begging  his  way  from  village  to  village,  he 
reached  here  on  Christmas  Eve  nearly  ready 
to  die  and  finding  the  church  door  open, 
crept  in,  and  was  found  there  by  the  boll- 


162  THE    MIDNIGHT    CHIMES. 

ringers,  as  they  have  described.  He  has  pre- 
pared the  following  message,  which  he  has 
entreated  me  to  send  by  the  cable  at  once 
to  his  home  in  England:  "Mother  and  Mary, 
come !  Saved  from  ruin  and  death  by  the 
Christmas  Chime."  I  am  on  my  way  now 
to  send  it,  and  he  is  to  stay  here  until  an 
answer  is  received. 

III.    THE    PATIENT'S    STORY. 

I  have  told  the  kind  doctor  only  part  ot 
my  eventful  history,  but  how  can  I  longer 
refuse  to  tell  him  all?  He  has  gone  with 
the  telegram  that  will  summon  to  me  the 
two  whom  I  love  best  in  all  this  world. 
Ah!  how  now  I  realize  my  love  for  them, 
and  also  my  deep  ingratitude !  A  year  ago 
my  prospect  in  life  so  bright  that  I  was  one 
of  the  happiest  of  men.  My  studies  were 
completed  and  I  was  on  the  point  of  being 
admitted  to  the  bar,  but  in  an  evil  hour  I 
was  led  into  temptation,  and  in  less  than 
six  months  had  contracted  the  habit  of  in- 
toxication.     I   recall   now   the    anxiety   and 


THE    MIDNIGHT    CHIMES.  163 

tears  of  my  mother,  and  the  bitter  grief  of 
the  dear  wife  to  whom  I  had  plighted  my 
troth. 

Going  home  one  night  in  a  condition  bor- 
dering closely  upon  delirium,  their  gentle 
expostulations  roused  the  demon  within  me, 
and  I  struck  them  both.  My  gentle  mother 
and  my  loving  wife !  Oh,  I  could  cut  off  the 
hand  that  gave  the  cruel  blows.  I  knew  not 
what  else  I  did,  but  as  the  morning  broke, 
and  as  I  awoke  from  sleep,  the  sense  of 
shame  so  overwhelmed  me  that  I  crammed 
hastily  into  my  valise  a  few  articles  of  wear- 
ing apparel,  made  my  way  to  the  nearest 
port,  and  took  a  steamer  for  America.  On 
the  voyage  my  conscience  lashed  me  so  that 
it  seemed  there  would  never  be  any  way  to 
quiet  its  reproof.  I  shunned  the  company 
of  my  fellow-voyagers,  and  in  a  condition 
of  alternate  stupor  and  delirium  got  some- 
how through  the  weary  days. 

I  reached  Boston  without  plans  or  aims, 
and  in  a  conditio]'  of  desperation.  There  I 
was,  an  utter  stranger,     it  was  early  in  De- 


164  THE    MIDNIGHT    CHIMES. 

cember,  and  the  weather  was  growing  bitter 
cold.  I  could  not  rest  in  any  place,  but- 
roamed  from  town  to  city,  spending  whole 
days  and  nights  in  dissipation,  until  at  length 
my  money  gave  out  and  I  became  a  beggar. 
Yes,  a  beggar !  I,  the  son  of  affluence,  with 
wealth  at  home,  begged  my  bread  from  door 
to  door.  I  could  not  work,  I  cared  not  to 
work.  Spending  my  days  in  plodding  along 
the  frozen  highway,  stopping  now  and  then 
at  a  farmhouse  to  get  a  morsel  to  keep  me 
from  starving,  and  sleeping  in  barns  and 
cattle  sheds,  the  year  drew  towards  its  end, 
and  I  saw  everywhere  the  preparations  for 
Merry  Christmas.  How  the  sight  of  the  joy 
of  others  maddened  me !  I  knew  that  at 
home  there  would  be  but  little  joy  in  one 
house  which  my'  sin  had  darkened.  I  knew 
that  for  the  first  time  since  my  father's  death 
my  poor  old  mother  would  find  her  son's 
place  vacant  at  the  table,  and  my  young 
wife  would  recall  the  happiness  of  past  days 
when  we  had  kept  the  festival  together. 
Christmas   Eve   found   me   on   the   highway. 


THE    MIDNIGHT    CHIMES.  165 

I  was  tired,  hungry,  and  well-nigh  distracted. 
The  wintry  winds  blew  keenly,  and  I  thought 
I  would  freeze  but  for  the  maddening  fever 
that  kept  my  brain  on  fire.  On  and  on  I 
walked.  I  had  no  thought  of  stopping  to 
rest.  No  thought  but  to  .go  on  and  on.  At 
last  I  saw  the  lights  of  a  town,  and  they 
were  few  and  far  between,  for  it  was  well 
on  towards  midnight,  and  the  bustle  of  the 
evening  had  quieted  now.  Here  and  there 
I  saw  a  lighted  window,  and  peering  through 
the  windows  saw  them  making  preparations 
for  the  morrow. 

But  hurrying  on,  I  came  to  a  bridge  over  a 
swift  stream.  The  moon  was  rising,  and  al- 
though I  was  so  absorbed  in  my  own  mourn- 
ful thoughts  that  I  scarcely  saw  the  planks 
of  the  bridge,  I  noticed  just  over  the  edge, 
one  place  where  the  ice  had  not  formed. 
There  was  a  swift  eddy  whirling  round  and 
round.  Somehow  it  fascinated  me.  I  stopped 
to  look.  Hands  that  beckoned  me  seemed  to 
be  stretched  out  of  the  water.  Instantly  the 
thought  of  suicide  entered  rr.y  brain!     I  bad 


166  THE    MIDNIGHT    CHIMES. 

never  thought  of  it  before,  but  now  it  took 
possession  of  me.  There  was  the  opening 
in  the  ice  just  over  the  edge  of  the  bridge. 
I  walked  to  the  railing  and  mounted  it,  ready 
for  the  fatal  spring. 

I  had  no  other  thought  than  self-destruc- 
tion— but  at  that  very  instant,  just  as  I  was 
poising  myself  to  leap  into  the  water,  the 
bells  in  a  neighboring  church  pealed  forth  a 
merry  Christmas  carol,  and  the  clocks  of  the 
town  struck  twelve.  Christinas  had  dawned. 
I  was  saved !  The  demon  hands  in  the  water 
seemed  to  sink  out  of  sight,  and  I  sprang 
back  again  to  the  roadway  of  the  bridge, 
shuddering  at  the  awful  crime  I  had  been 
on  the  point  of  committing. 

I  rushed  on  over  the  bridge.  Some  im- 
pulse, I  know  not  what — was  it  not  a  guar- 
dian angel? — led  me  on  and  on  down  the 
street  to  the  church  from  whose  tower  there 
were  pealing  forth  sweet  strains  of  music.  1 
stopped  now  and  then  to  listen.  They  were 
playing  the  same  old  carols  we  used  to  sing  at 
home.     What  a  flood  of  memory  they  brought 


THE    MIDNIGHT    CHIMES.  1G7 

back?  In  a  little  while  I  reached  the  church. 
I  had  no  thought  of  entering  it,  but  behold, 
the  door  was  ajar,  and  I  went  in.  It  was 
all  dark  within,  and  without  knowing  why 
I  did  so,  I  groped  my  way  along  towards 
the  chancel,  up  the  broad  alley.  I  could  see 
nothing,  it  was  so  dark;  but  I  could  feel  the 
warmth  of  the  fires,  and  could  smell  the  odor 
of  the  hemlock  boughs  with  which  the  arches 
were  decked. 

Slowly  groping  my  way  along,  I  reached 
the  chancel  step.  My  foot  struck  against  it, 
and  I  fell  forward  on  my  knees.  I  did  not 
intend  to  kneel  there  to  pray.  I  fell  there, 
or  rather  God's  angel  put  me  there,  and  as  I 
raised  my  eyes,  the  moon  which  had  been  ris- 
ing, had  reached  a  point  whence  her  beams 
shone  suddenly  through  one  of  the  pictured 
windows  of  the  chancel.  It  was  like  a  vi- 
sion from  heaven!  Upon  that  window  was 
the  full  length  representation  of  the  merci- 
ful Christ.  What  tenderness  was  in  His  face 
— what  pleading  love !  I  could  not  resist  the 
impulse  to  cry  out — 


168  THE    MIDNIGHT    CHIMES. 

"  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me  a  sinner ! " 

The  fountain  was  unsealed.  Never  before 
in  my  agony  had  I  thought  of  pardon,  but 
new  hope  sprang  up  as  I  looked  upon  that 
pictured  window  and  thought  of  Him  whose 
mercy  and  love  it  shadowed  forth.  From  the 
very  depths  of  my  soul  I  prayed.  I  know 
not  what  words  I  said,  nor  how  long  I  re- 
mained there.  At  intervals  I  could  hear  the 
chime  still  ringing,  but  presently  its  sounds 
became  fainter  and  fainter.  I  thought  I  was 
dying,  and  with  one  last  effort  of  strength, 
stretched  out  my  hands  towards  heaven,  and 
knew  nothing  more  until  I  awoke  here. 

Blessings,  rich  blessings,  rest  forever  upon 
those  whose  benefaction  placed  that  chime 
of  bells  in  the  church  tower.  Blessings  upon 
those  who  rung  them  that  Christmas  morning, 
for  had  it  not  been  for  the  sweet  carol  that 
floated  out  at  midnight,  I  had  been  a  suicide. 

And  now,  if  strength  be  given  me,  I  must 
undo  the  evil  I  have  done.  I  know  that 
Mary  and  mother  will  come  to  me.  Should 
I  live  to  see  them,  God's  name  be  praised. 


THE    MIDNIGHT   CHIMES.  169 

THE     DOCTOR'S     POSTSCRIPT. 

About  the  close  of  January,  an  elderly 
lady,  and  one  much  younger,  came  to  the 
hospital.  I  felt  at  once  that  they  had  come 
for  my  patient.  I  said  nothing,  but  pointed 
to  his  room.  There  was  a  scream,  but  not 
of  pain.  It  was  too  full  of  gladness  for  that. 
My  patient  is  growing  stronger  every  day, 
and  I  suppose  he  will  leave  us  by  the  mid- 
dle of  February. 

I  hold  in  my  hands  a  noble  gift  the  moth- 
er has  bestowed  upon  the  hospital.  It  is  a 
check  to  cover  the  cost  of  a  new  window 
for  the  chapel  of  the  hospital,  to  be  an  exact 
copy  of  the  pictured  window  which  had  so 
much  to  do  with  her  son's  history  that  Christ- 
mas morning,  and  another  check  to  reward 
most  liberally  the  three  young  men  who  rang 
the  bells  at  midnight — the  bells  that  carried 
God's  message  to  the  poor  soul  so  close  to 
destruction. 


GAINING  BY   LOSING. 


GAINING  BY  LOSING. 


oXKc 


I.     CHRISTMAS     IN     PROSPERITY. 

DWARD  WOETHINGTON,  a  weal- 
thy  New  York  merchant,  was  on 
the  high  road  to  becoming  a  mil- 
lionaire. Every  thing  he  touched 
seemed  to  turn  to  gold.  His  friends  mar- 
velled at  his  daring  ventures,  but  applauded 
the  success  that  always  came. 

His  home,  in  the  most  aristocratic  quarter 
of  the  city,  was  as  luxurious  as  could  well  be 
imagined,  and  was  almost  a  treasure  house  of 
costly  adornments  and  works  of  art.  His 
family  consisted  of  his  wife  and  two  daugh- 
ters. At  the  time  this  story  opens,  the  latter 
had  just  graduated  from  a  fashionable  board- 
ing-school. 

Their  accomplishments  were  of  the  usual 


174  GAINING    BY    LOSING. 

order  of  girls  brought  up  without  any  spe- 
cial aim  in  life  except  to  pursue  the  round 
of  fashionable  amusements. 

They  were  not  at  all  to  blame  for  this,  for 
their  parents  had  never  tried  to  inspire  them 
with  any  higher  ambition  than  to  carry  them- 
selves creditably  in  society  as  the  daughters 
of  a  successful  merchant  with  the  command 
of  almost  unlimited  wealth. 

At  school  they  had  been  courted  and  flat- 
tered by  their  companions,  and  every  thing 
had  been  made  as  easy  as  possible  for  them 
by  their  teachers. 

It  would  have  been  strange  indeed  if,  un- 
der all  the  circumstances,  they  had  developed 
any  thing  but  weak,  selfish  dispositions. 

Their  mother  was  a  weak,  selfish  woman, 
and  their  father's  wisdom  and  energy  found 
their  scope  only  in  his  business. 

His  home  life  included  no  care  for  his 
family  beyond  surrounding  them  with  what 
wealth  would  buy,  and  what  would  fit  them 
for  such  society  as  that  in  which  they  moved. 

It  was  a  family  without  religious  princi- 


GAINING    BY    LOSING.  175 

pies.  It  is  true  that  now  and  then  they  at- 
tended  some  church,  but  they  had  no  interest 
in  practical  religion,  and  were  living  only  for 
this  world. 

The  winter  of  18 —  found  them  in  the 
height  of  their  prosperity  preparing  for  a 
grand  party  at  their  house  on  Christmas 
Eve.  They  selected  this  time  for  the  party 
not  from  any  interest  they  felt  in  Christmas 
itself,  but  because  it  was  a  season  of  gayety 
in  their  circle,  and  because  they  could  then 
secure  the  presence  of  a  great  throng. 

They  were  determined  to  make  it  a  great 
affair,  and  if  possible  to  eclipse  all  the  sim- 
ilar occasions  in  which  they  had  taken  part 
in  the  earlier  portion  of  the  season. 

Invitations  were  sent  out  to  hundreds. 
The  decorators,  the  caterers,  and  others  were 
given  carte  blanche,  and  for  some  weeks  there 
was  quite  a  hum  of  busy  preparation  for  the 
Worthington's  Christmas  party. 

How  shall  I  describe  the  magnificence  of 
that  occasion?  You  can  imagine  the  beau- 
tiful  residence  brilliantly  lighted;  the  profu- 


176  GAINING    BY    LOSING. 

sion  of  rare  flowers  and  plants  in  the  halls 
and  stairways  and  wherever  else  they  could 
be  put;  the  rooms  crowded  with  guests,  the 
strains  of  music  from  the  band,  the  dancing, 
the  supper,  and  the  buzz  of  talk  that  went 
on  from  the  many  who  had  accepted  the 
rich  man's  bidding  to  the  feast. 

As  such  gatherings  go  it  was  a  great  suc- 
cess. It  was  successful  even  when  compared 
with  the  many  brilliant  assemblies  held  in 
such  a  city  as  New  York. 

Money  makes  many  friends,  and  money 
buys  much  splendor.  Here  there  was  no 
lack  of  either,  so  that  when  the  party  was 
over  the  Worthingtons  had  reason  to  con- 
gratulate themselves  upon  having  fairly  out- 
shone their  neighbors,  and  were  as  happy  as 
people  usually  are  under  such  circumstances. 

The  Christmas  bells  rang  out  their  calls  to 
prayer  and  praise  while  the  tired  family 
were  sleeping  off  the  effects  of  the  previous 
evening's  fatigue  and  excitement. 

No  one  in  that  home  responded  to  the 
call,  and  no  one's  heart  there  thrilled  with 


GAINING    BY    LOSING.  177 

joy  over  the  story  of  a  Saviour's  birth. 
They  would  have  resented  the  charge  of 
being  heathen,  but  after  all  was  it  not  a 
heathenish  life  they  lived? 

What  was  it  to  them  that  One  had  been 
born  in  a  manger? 

What  was  it  to  them  that  He  had  taught 
men  to  be  self-denying,  and  to  trust  not  in 
uncertain  riches? 

Although  they  lived  in  a  Christian  land, 
there  had  not  up  to  this  time  entered  into 
their  lives  any  thing  that  distinguished  them 
from  those  who  had  never  heard  of  Christ 
and  of  His  salvation. 

The  Christmas  festival  was  to  them  only 
a  time  of  mirth  and  rejoicing,  of  exchang- 
ing gifts,  and  of  compliance  with  the  world's 
usages.     It  had  no  religious  significance. 

And  so  that  Christmas  time  passed  away. 


178  GAINING    BY    LOSING. 


II.     CHRISTMAS     IN     ADVERSITY. 

No  one  of  the  many  guests  who  crowded 
the  house  of  Mr.  Worthington  on  that  Christ- 
mas Eve  could  have  fancied  so  great  a  change 
as  that  which  took  place  in  the  fortunes  of 
the  merchant  before  a  year  passed  away. 
His  wealth  seemed  so  secure,  his  sagacity 
so  great,  that  however  probable  it  was  that 
other  men  might  be  submerged  under  the 
wave  of  financial  troubles,  none  thought  that 
he  could  be  injured.  And  yet  when  the  wave 
passed  it  left  Mr.  Worthington  a  poor  man. 
His  vast  possessions  were  swept  away,  and 
he  was  utterly  ruined.  It  is  hard  to  describe 
just  how  the  calamity  fell  upon  him.  It  was 
one  of  those  sudden,  unexpected  events  that 
no  one  can  accurately  recount. 

He  had  grown  very  bold  in  his  ventures, 
had  put  his  whole  estate  into  the  risk,  and 
was  amazed  when  the  result  was  so  differ- 
ent from  what  all  the  probabilities  had  in- 
dicated. 

It  was  not  an  ordinary  failure,  but  a  thor- 


GAINING    BY    LOSING.  179 

ough  sweeping'  away  of  all  that  he  had. 
His  house  and  its  contents,  his  securities, 
his  business,  every  thing  had  to  go.  lie 
had  staked  heavily,  and  if  the  result  had 
been  as  he  wished  he  would  have  been  a 
millionaire,  but  it  was  just  the  opposite.  He 
had  not  shown  ordinary  prudence.  He  made 
the  one  awful,  fatal  blunder  and  lost  his  all. 

His  obligations  were  so  far  beyond  his  re- 
sources that  the  latter  seemed  small  indeed, 
and  his  creditors,  alarmed  lest  his  failure 
should  lead  to  the  failure  of  others,  were 
clamorous  for  settlement,  and  would  accept 
no    compromise. 

It  might  have  been  possible  under  some 
circumstances  to  have  saved  enough,  by  the 
favor  of  his  creditors,  to  have  enabled  him 
to  go  on  again,  but  his  creditors  happened 
to  be  men  whose  .fears  made  them  merciless, 
and  they  pressed  him  heavily. 

It  required  days  and  weeks  for  the  once 
prosperous  merchant  to  realize  the  wonder- 
ful change  that  had  come  in  his  affairs,  and 
it  was  only  «rhen  the  need  of  rousing  hira- 


180  GAINING    BY    LOSING. 

self  to  do  something  to  gain  bread  for  hia 
family  was  forced  upon  him  that  he  saw 
how  great  was  the  wreck  of  all  his  hopes 
and  plans. 

It  was  just  before  Christmas  when  the  un- 
happy family  left  the  beautiful  home  where 
but  a  year  before  they  had  made  such  a  dis- 
play of  their  wealth. 

Now  bowed  down  with  sadness,  they  took 
their  way  to  an  obscure  street  in  the  great 
city  to  the  few  rooms  they  had  rented,  and 
where  they  were  to  begin  life  under  such 
changed  circumstances. 

The  little  street  seemed  so  dingy,  and  the 
mean  rooms  were  so  mean,  that  their  first 
evening  there  was  an  evening  spent  mainly 
in  lamentations  and  tears. 

When  Christmas  Eve  came  their  minds 
went  back  to  the  brilliant  scene  of  the  pre- 
ceding year,  and  they  uttered  bitter  com- 
plaints that  of  all  those  who  had  on  that 
occasion  assembled  in  their  home  not  one 
remembered  them  in  their  poverty.  All  had 
forsaken  them.     They  Avere  as  much  alone  as 


GAINING    BY    LOSING.  181 

if  they  had  been  strangers  newly  arrived  in 
the  great  city. 

It  was  a  sad  evening,  and  as  the  father 
looked  around  at  his  family  he  said — "  Well, 
this  is  terrible.  Here  we  are  alone  and  poor, 
when  only  a  year  ago  we  had  all  that  heart 
could  wish.  It  is  bad  enough  to  be  poor,  but 
it  seems  worse  to  be  as  utterly  forgotten  as 
we  seem  to  be.  But  there  is  one  thing  I 
have  learned,  and  that  is  to  put  very  little 
reliance  in  people  who  can  be  bought  and 
sold  for  money.  There  must  be  some  peo- 
ple in  the  world  different  from  those  we  have 
had  to  do  with.  There  surely  must  be  some 
who  are  less  selfish,  and  who  will  cling  closer 
than  the  idle  throng  whom  our  money  drew 
to  our  doors." 

Just  then  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door, 
and  there  entered  an  old  man,  who  announced 
himself  as  a  neighbor  living  in  the  next  house, 
He  had  a  good-natured,  cheery  manner  that 
quite  won  the  hearts  of  the  saddened  family, 
and  then  any  visitor  was  welcome  on  such 
a  night. 


182  GAINING    BY    LOSING. 

The  neighbor  had  come  in,  he  said,  seeing 
they  were  strangers,  to  invite  them  to  the 
Christmas  service  in  the  little  chapel  down 
the  street  the  following  morning. 

And  he  went  on  in  his  bright  way  to  tell 
them  about  the  affairs  of  the  little  chapel, 
and  the  good  work  the  Lord  was  doing 
among  the  poor  of  that  neighborhood. 

They  listened  to  him  with  more  interest 
than  they  ever  supposed  they  could  have  in 
such  matters,  and  in  response  to  his  earnest 
invitation  promised  to  be  there  on  Christmas 
morning. 

When  he  was  gone  Mrs.  Worthington  said, 
"  Edward,  this  is  about  as  strange  as  any 
thing  else  in  our  year's  history — this  going 
to  a  poor  mission  chapel  on  Christmas  morn- 
ing. Well,  I'm  glad  you  promised  to  go,  for 
it  is  getting  to  be  perfectly  dreadful  living 
here  without  knowing  any  one,  and  as  we 
are  deserted  by  the  rich  we  may  as  well 
make  some  friends  among  the  poor." 

And  so  on  the  next  morning  they  all  went 
to  the  Christmas  service  in  the  chapel.     It 


GAINING    BY    LOSING.  183 

was  a  very  humble  building,  and  the  congre- 
gation was  made  up  of  very  humble  people. 

There  were  a  few  people  present,  men  and 
women  who  preferred  doing  without  the  lux- 
urious appointments  of  the  grand  churches  in 
the  city  that  they  might  add  to  the  comfort 
and  benefit  of  their  less  favored  brethren. 

The  service  was  hearty  and  enthusiastic. 
The  music  had  a  gladsome  ring  to  it,  -and 
the  responses  seemed  to  come  from  the  heart. 
The  sermon  was  very  simple.  The  preacher 
told  over  again  the  old,  old  story,  but  told 
it  with  a  freshness  and  vividness  that  made 
it  seem  all  new. 

All  new  it  certainly  was  to  the  Worth- 
ingtons,  and  they  listened  with  absorbing 
interest.  No  eloquent  words  they  had  be- 
fore heard  impressed  them  so  deeply  as  this 
plain  discourse  which  was  so  devoid  of  all 
attempts  at  ornament. 

Perhaps  their  spirits  were  in  just  the  mood 
to  be  touched. 

But  be  that  as  it  may,  they  left  that  chapel 
when  the  service  was  over  with  new  feelings, 


184  GAINING    BY    LOSING. 

and  with  the  firm  conviction  that  life  must 
have  in  it  a  deeper  meaning  than  they  had 
yet  found  if  the  Son  of  God  could  humble 
Himself  to  live  here  among  men. 

There  was  not  any  sudden  conversion. 
They  did  not  become  at  once  devout  Chris- 
tian people,  but  a  change  began  to  come  over 
them.  One  good  thought  led  on  to  another. 
One  new  friend  brought  another,  and  some- 
what to  their  own  surprise  they  found  them- 
selves part  and  parcel  of  the  mission  con- 
gregation and  taking  a  deep  interest  in  its 
affairs. 

They  gradually  became  more  and  more 
accustomed  to  their  changed  circumstances, 
and  as  new  interests  were  formed,  and  as 
Mr.  Worthington  found  employment  where 
he  could  support  his  family  in  tolerable  com- 
fort, they  began  to  be  much  more  hopeful 
and   happy. 

The  mother  and  daughters  found  their 
sympathies  drawn  out  towards  their  poor 
neighbors,  and  ere  long  were  led  to  assist 
in  the  school  and  in  the  different  societies 


GAINING    BY    LOSING.  185 

which  existed  in  the  mission  for  Christian 
work. 

And  so  step  by  step,  the  Lord  led  these 
people,  showing  them  how  vain  is  man's 
trust  in  his  riches,  how  fickle  are  the  friends 
that  come  only  in  prosperity,  and  what  un- 
developed capacities  there  are  which  only 
the  touch  of  affliction  can  draw  out. 

So  they  were  led  on  and  on,  until  as  years 
passed  by  they  became  very  earnest  Chris- 
tians, and  were  able  to  say,  "It  is  good  for 
us  that  we  have  been  afflicted." 

But  it  was  a  hard  lesson.  Their  hold  of  the 
world  had  been  very  tenacious,  their  selfish- 
ness had  been  very  great,  and  their  forget- 
fulness  of  God  had  been  extreme.  Nothing 
but  so  heavy  a  blow  could  have  saved  them 
from  going  on  in  that  way  whose  record  is 
summed  up  in  the  significant  expression, 
"Without  God  in  the  world." 

Now  all  was  changed,  and  they  found 
themselves  the  possessors  of  peace  of  mind 
and  genuine  satisfaction'  which  were  not 
theirs  in  their  days  of  wealth. 


186  GAINING   BY    LOSING. 

III.     CHRISTMAS     IN    EARNEST. 

Ten  years  have  passed  away  since  the  old 
man  who  lived  in  the  next  house  paid  his 
friendly  visit  to  the  Worthingtons  to  invite 
them  to  the  Christmas  service. 

The  good  old  man  knew  not  what  happy 
results  would  follow  his  neighborly  deed,  and 
he  has  long  since  gone  to  his  rest. 

It  is  Christmas  Eve  again,  but  we  do  not 
find  the  Worthingtons  lisying  in  the  humble 
street  near  the  chapel.  No,  they  have  re- 
moved to  a  better  house,  for  Mr.  Worthing- 
ton  is  again  a  prosperous  business  man.  He 
has  won  his  way  onward  until  now  he  is 
again  a  man  of  means.  Not  the  wealthy 
man  we  first  knew,  for  he  has  given  up 
those  reckless  ventures  which  before  result- 
ed so  disastrously,  and  is  now  content  witl 
more  moderate  returns. 

He  is  steadily  acquiring  influence,  and  is 
making  his  power  felt  in  the  business  world. 

But  the  family  have  not  returned  to  the 
old  life  they  lived  in  their  former  prosperity. 


GAINING    BY    LOSING.  187 

They  have  no  desire  to  take  up  the  senseless 
round  that  osce  occupied  them.  They  have 
but  little  deske  to  live  in  the  glare  and  glit- 
ter which  they  once  affected. 

They  can  never  think  of  their  former  con- 
dition without  being  glad  that  they  are  so 
happily  out  of  it  now. 

Their  new  prosperity  has  not  weakened 
their  love  for  the  little  mission  chapel  where 
they  first  learned  how  real  and  how  noble 
life  has  become  since  the  Son  of  God  has 
taught  us  its  possibilities. 

Many  warm  friendships  were  made  there 
which  have  grown  stronger  with  years,  and 
many  a  tie  binds  them  to  the  pastor  and 
people  of  the  mission. 

This  Christmas  Eve,  as  has  been  his  cus- 
tom for  a  few  years  past,  Edward  Worthing- 
ton  calls  together  a  different  class  of  persons 
to  partake  of  the  good  cheer  of  his  home. 
Now  it  is  not  his  rich  neighbors,  but  the 
poor  who  come  at  his  invitation,  and  many 
a  needy  child,  many  toil-wora  men  and  wo- 
men, have  learned  that  there  is  always  aouit- 


188  GAINING    BY    LOSING. 

thing  for  them  in  Edward  Worthington's 
home  on  Christmas  Eve.  The  mission  peo- 
ple feel  at  their  ease  with  him,  for  they  know 
that  his  heart  sympathizes  with  them.  They 
rejoice  at  his  prosperity  as  they  see  the  good 
he  is  doing  with  his  wealth,  and  no  one  of 
them  has  a  hard  thought  because  he  is  rich 
while  they  are  poor.  "  Why,"  says  one  of 
them,  "  a  man  like  Worthington  who  has  been 
down  nearly  as  poor  as  we  are,'  and  has  got 
his  money  honestly  and  uses  so  much  of  it 
for  others — why,  he's  the  sort  of  man  to  have 
it.     'The  Lord  bless  him.'" 

And  so  to-night  these  people  find  bright- 
ness and  welcome  and  comfort  in  their  friend's 
house,  and  leave  him  with  benedictions. 

If  again  he  should  be  prostratea  by  calam- 
ity, will  he  be  without  friends?  Will  he  go 
out  from  his  home  to  bear  his  burden  alone 

Ten  years  ago  he  was  living  for  the  perish- 
able things  of  this  life,  but  now  he  and  hir 
are  trying  to  lay  up  treasures  in  heaven. 


PANSY'S   PREPARATIONS  FOR 
CHRISTMAS 


PANSY'S  PREPARATIONS  FOR 
CHRISTMAS. 

A    GRANDMOTHER'S    STORY. 

! 

HE  was  "Heart's-Ease"  to  every  one, 
and  so  we  called  her  Pansy.  She 
was  a  bright,  cheery  little  creat- 
ure, fall  of  sunshine,  and  when 
she  was  taken  away  our  home  seemed  very 
dark  indeed.  She  was  taken  from  us  by  the 
Good  Shepherd  only  eight  years  from  the  day 
she  came  to  us.  Her  coming  filled  many 
hearts  with  gladness,  but  her  departing  made 
many  more  sad. 

"  If  only  we  could  have  kept  her  here,"  we 
used  to  say,  but  now  that  time  has  rolled  on 
we  have  learned  to  say,  "  The  Lord  gave,  and 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away,  blessed  be  the 
nam",  of  the  Lord." 


192  pansy's  preparations 

We  know  that  she  is  at  rest  in  Paradise, 
and  we  hope  to  see  her  again  where  all  is 
gladness,  and  where  suffering  can  not  come. 
It  was  very  hard  to  give  her  up.  She  was 
such  a  gentle  little  thing,  with  so  many  win- 
ning ways,  that  she  became  the  very  joy  of 
our  lives,  and  we  all  thanked  God  in  our 
prayers  that  she  had  come  to  be  the  bright- 
ener  of  our  home. 

It  was  very  amusing  to  see  the  joy  of  her 
big  brothers,  — there  were  three  of  them, 
great  tall  fellows, — when  the  baby  was  born. 
Being  the  only  girl  in  the  family  they  re- 
garded her  at  first  with  great  wonderment, 
and  finally  yielded  themselves  absolutely  to 
her  sway.  Never  did  fair  lady  have  such 
loyal  followers  as  did  she. 

These  big  brothers  were  attentive  to  her 
every  command,  and  were  ready  to  go 
through  fire  and  water  to  serve  her. 

Many  were  the  contests  between  them  as 
to  which  of  the  three  should  do  the  most 
for  her  ladyship.  It  is  true  that  sometimes 
their  attentions  were  very  clumsy  and  !>luu- 


FOR    CHRISTMAS.  193 

dering,  but  she  seemed  to  know  their  devo- 
tion, and  rewarded  them  with  her  bright 
sunny  smile,  and  they  were  happy.  When 
she  began  to  talk  their  delight  was  unbound- 
ed, and  her  first  efforts  at  pronouncing  their 
names  seemed  to  them  the  most  wonderful 
performance  they  had  ever  listened  to. 

She  had  many  instructors  in  articulation, 
and  it  is  to  be  feared  she  was  often  wearied 
with  the  zeal  not  only  of  her  brothers  but 
of  all  the  household  in  teaching  her  to  say 
the  little  words  and  phrases  that  sounded  so 
quaint,  but  so  pretty,  as  she  uttered  them. 

The  Christmas  trees  that  were  prepared  for 
Pansy  were  wonderful  things.  These  big 
brothers  claimed  the  right  to  select  the  trees, 
and  to  decorate  them.  The  decorations  were 
not  very  rich,  for  we  were  not  a  wealthy  fam- 
ily. We  had  enough,  but  not  overmuch  of 
this  world's  goods.  We  have  never  known 
poverty,  and  we  have  never  known  riches. 

But  if  there  was  nothing  very  costly  on 
Pansy's  trees,  there  was  certainly  a  great  va- 
riety; jack-knives,  and  jig-oaws,  under  the 
13 


194  pansy's  preparations 

boys'  loving  management  produced  marvels 
in  the  shape  of  dolls,  doll-houses,  Noah's  arks, 
boats,  and  the  like,  and  there  were  brilliant- 
ly-colored pictures,  the  product  of  hours  spent 
in  the  old  attic  by  James,  the  artist  of  the 
family. 

Well,  these  Christmas  trees  gave  great  de- 
light to  the  little  one,  as  certainly  they  did 
to  the  older  people.  In  very  few  homes 
could  the  Saviour's  birthday  have  been  cele- 
brated with  more  rejoicing,  and  so  year  by 
year  we  welcomed  its  coming.  Our  little 
daughter  grew  more  and  more  attractive, 
and  she  was  surrounded  with  an  atmosphere 
of  affection.  And  what  was  best  of  all  she 
seemed  to  return  all  our  love,  and  paid  us 
back  smile  for  smile.  "How  greatly  we  loved 
her,  and  how  greatly  we  enjoyed  her. 

Sometimes  we  older  people  had  our  day 
dreams,  and  we  pictured  to  ourselves  what 
our  little  one  would  be  when  she  grew  up  to 
womanhood,  tut  our  brightest  pictures  for 
her  were  not  so  bright  as  the  future  the  dear 
Lord  had  prepared  for  her. 


FOR   CHRISTMAS.  195 

We  thought  of  a  happy,  useful,  beautiful 
life  here  on  the  earth,  but  Ho  intended  a 
blissful  existence  in  Paradise. 

We  know  now  that  His  ways  are  wiser 
than  ours,  and  that  it  was  in  loving  kind- 
ness to  little  Pansy  that  He  called  her  from 
all  the  sorrows  of  this  life,  and  carried  her, 
in  all  her  joyous  innocence,  into  the  life  of 
perfect  gladness.  She  never  knew  what  sor- 
row really  was.  Her  stay  here  was  made 
bright  and  happy  by  the  love  that  surround- 
ed her,  and  long  before  she  could  realize  that 
there  were  burdens  to  be  borne,  and  tempta- 
tions to  be  met,  she  was  ushered  into  the 
abode  of  the  blessed,  where  she  is  growing 
in  all  the  sweetness  of  her  spirit  in  the  near- 
er presence  of  the  Lord. 

But  I  started  out  to  tell  you  of  her  last 
Christmas  with  us,  or  rather  of  the  last  prep- 
arations she  made  for  the  blessed  Christmas 
time.  She  was  not  content  to  be  a  receivei 
of  the  good  gilts  of  others,  but  must,  in  hei 
way  be  a  giver  too;  so  when  she  was  a  very 
little  girl  she  began  to  add  to  the  load  that 


196  pansy's  preparations 

hung  upon  the  Christmas  tree.  It  was  but 
little  that  she  could  do,  but  we  all  learned  to 
prize  her  little  gifts  as  among  our  choicest 
treasures. 

Early  in  November,  when  the  snows  com- 
menced to  fall,  we  knew  that  the  dear  child 
had  begun  her  preparations.  During  a  part 
of  each  day  we  would  miss  her,  and  now  and 
then  there  were  packages  of  bright  colored 
worsteds  that  she  would  commission  me  to 
buy.  Of  course  I  never  knew  what  they 
were  for,  or  if  I  ventured  a  guess  I  was 
hushed  by  a  tiny  finger  on  my  lips,  and  a 
pleading  voice  that  said  — "  It's  a  secret, 
mamma,  and  no  one  must  know  till  Christ- 
mas time." 

When  that  last  December  opened,  it  found 
our  house  in  deep  sadness.  A  sickness  that 
we  could  not  account  for,  had  taken  hold  of 
our  little  one,  and  for  some  days  the  doctor's 
visits  were  looked  forward  to  with  great  anx- 
iety. But  there  were  only  a  few  days  of 
sharp  pain,  and  then  in  our  blindness  and 
affection  we  thought  the  danger  all  over. 


FOR   CHRISTMAS.  1(J7 

It  is  true  the  little  one  had  to  stay  in  her 
bed,  but  we  all  thought  she  would  be  about 
again  as  merry  as  ever.  Well,  it  did  seem 
as  if  she  must  recover,  and  so  we  dismissed 
our  anxieties,  and  hopefully  waited,  but  it 
was  ordered  otherwise  by  the  great  lov- 
ing Father.  Pansy's  sickness  was  one  from 
which  there  was  no  recovery,  and  there  she 
lay  during  those  winter  days  growing  weak- 
er instead  of  stronger,  and  we  all  the  time 
hoping  that  we  could  keep  her  with  us.  She 
was  fading  away  from  us  even  while  we  were 
looking  for  the  change  that  would  restore 
her. 

1  suppose  now  we  might  have  seen  how 
utterly  hopeless  was  her  condition  if  we  had 
not  longed  so  ardently  for  her  recovery. 

And  she  was  so  bright  and  cheerful  too. 
There  was  but  little  pain,  only  that  dread- 
ful weakness  that  became  more  and  more 
decided. 

But  during  the  few  weeks  she  lay  there  as 
white  as  a  lily,  her  little  fingers  were  busy, 
and  ber  brain  was  full  of  plans  for  keeping 


198  pansy's  preparations 

Christmas.  It  was  my  privilege  to  be  the 
dear  child's  confidant  and  assistant  in  her 
preparations  for  making  others  happy.  She 
told  me  what  she  wanted  to  do  for  each  one, 
and  I  was  permitted  to  help  her. 

She  did  not  know  how  many  were  the 
silent  tears  I  shed  over  the  little  tasks  she 
transferred  to  me,  nor  how  during  those  last 
few  days  I  struggled  to  control  my  almost 
breaking  heart. 

She  lingered  on  until  Christmas  Day  and 
then  we  all  knew  that  the  end  had  come. 
She  knew  it  too.  I  have  reason  to  believe 
since  that  she  knew  it  long  before  we  did, 
and  with  sweet  patience  was  waiting  the 
hour  when  she  should  be  called  to  a  better 
home. 

It  was  just  towards  the  dawn  of  the 
winter's  day  that  we  all  came  together  in 
her  room.  Her  bed  was  strewn  with  the 
many  little  things  she  had  prepared  for 
Christmas  gifts.  I  had  placed  them  where 
Rhe  could  see  them,  at  her  request,  and  she 
wanted  to  give  them  "  with  her  own  hands," 


FOR   CHRISTMAS.  199 

she  said.  She  could  not  wait  till  morning, 
she  told  us,  and  so  we  came  to  receive  our 
gifts.  I  need  not  tell  you  what  they  were. 
They  were  only  little  things,  such  as  a  lit- 
tle child  would  select,  and  such  as  her  own 
hands  would  have  finished  if  she  had  had 
the  strength.  There,  were  names  worked  in 
worsted,  purses,  needle -books,  such  things 
as  these.  No  stranger  would  have  valued 
them,  but  to  us  they  were  treasures  indeed. 

I  do  not  know  how  it  was,  but  as  we  went 
up  to  the  bedside  one  by  one  to  receive  our 
gifts  we  knelt  down,  and  her  dear  hands  hav- 
ing bestowed  the  gift  were  placed  tenderly 
on  our  heads,  as  if  somehow  her  benediction 
must  go  with  the  gift. 

And  I  am  sure  it  did,  for  through  all  these 
long  years  when  Christmas  Day  comes  we 
fancy  we  still  feel  the  touch  of  those  hands 
as  we  felt  it  then  when  we  knelt  by  Pansy's 
bedside,  and  it  has  been  to  us  a  help  through 
life's  trials,  for  it  has  reminded  us  of  the  wel- 
come and  the  affection  that  await  us  in  Par 
adise. 


200  pansy's  preparations 

She  could  not  say  much  to  us,  but  her 
eyes  were  eloquent  with  happiness. 

Well,  the  last  gift  was  made,  and  the  little 
hands  were  uplifted  from  her  father's  head, 
for  it  was  her  fancy  to  give  his  last  of  all, 
when  I  saw  the  change  coming.  A  shadow 
passed  over  her  face,  there  was  a  spasm  of 
pain,  and  then  quietly  she  fell  asleep  and 
awoke  no  more.  Our  "  Heart's-Ease  "  was  in 
Paradise. 

I  will  not  tell  you  how  much  we  missed 
that  blessed  sunbeam  from  our  home,  nor 
how  lonely  we  all  seemed  without  her. 

Seeing  you  all  so  busy  preparing  for  Christ- 
mas reminded  me  of  my  dear  one's  prepara- 
tion for  the  last  Christmas  she  spent  with  us. 
We  have  her  little  gifts  yet.  My  boys  have 
grown  up  to  be  men,  but  I  know  that  they 
keep  as  among  their  dearest  possessions  Pan- 
sy's gifts  which  they  received  as  they  knelt 
at  her  bedside  so  many  years  ago  that  Christ- 
mas Day  when  He  who  was  once  a  child 
called  our  darling  home,  and  folded  her  in 
His   loving   arms.     And   I've    told  you    the 


FOR   CHRISTMAS.  201 

story  too  that  you  may  sometimes  have  the 
thought  come  to  you  that  these  little  things 
you  receive  from  each  other,  as  this  happy 
season  comes,  may  have  a  value  you  can  not 
see  at  once.  They  may  be  freighted  with 
the  love  and  devotion  of  some  who  before 
another  Christmas  comes  will  not  be  witn 
us  here. 


HOW  TO  ILLUSTRATE  THE 
STORIES. 


HOW  TO  ILLUSTRATE  THE 
STORIES. 


c**Cc 


HEN  these  stories  are  read  aloud  in 
families,   or  at  Sunday-school  fes- 
tivals, at  Christmas  time,  they  can 
readily  be  illustrated  by  tableaux 
and  carols. 

The  following  directions  will  show  how  to 
do  this,  and  the  ingenuity  of  parents,  teach- 
ers, and  others  will  provide  still  further  il- 
lustrations. 

1st.  There  should  be  a  reader  who,  having 
studied  a  story  in  advance,  should  on  the  oc- 
casion of  the  public  reading  stand  near  the 
platform  where  the  illustrations  are  to  be 
given. 

2d.  In   almost   every  parlor   with    folding 


206  HOW    TO    ILLUSTRATE 

doors  the  rear  room  could  be  used  for  the 
tableaux.  In  halls,  etc.,  a  platform  with  cur- 
tain could  easily  be  constructed. 

3d.  The  reader  and  the  persons  selected 
to  give  the  illustrations  should  have  one  or 
two  rehearsals  in  advance. 

4th.  At  the  time  of  the  reading,  when  the 
reader  reaches  a  part  where  a  tableau  is  to 
be  shown,  let  him  pause  in  the  story.  Con- 
sider the  tableau  as  a  picture  of  the  scene 

5th.  The  music  for  the  carols  can  usually 
be  rendered  by  a  concealed  chorus  of  ten  or 
twelve  children.  Any  familiar  carols  can  be 
used. 

6th.  The  numbers  in  brackets  in  the  stories 
refer  to  the  tableaux,  etc.,  described  in  the 
following  pages. 


THE    STORIES.  207 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Uncle  JoJins  Christmas  Party. 

1.  Uncle  John  enters,  arranges  his  straps, 
brushes  his  hat,  cleans  his  glasses,  reads  his 
paper,  examines  contents  of  his  pockets. 

2.  Aunt  Susan  enters,  walks  arm  in  arm 
with  Uncle  John,  point  out  to  each  other 
the  sunset  clouds,  etc. 

3.  Enter  the  cook,  drops  the  pan,  storms 
over  it,  remembers  herself,  picks  it  up  gen- 
tly, etc. 

4.  Enter  Dickey  Diggs,  absent-minded — 
pantomime  at  discretion. 

5  Enter  the  twins,  carrying  .something, 
one  going  fast,  the  other  slowly.  They  be- 
gin to  do  some  work  in  same  way. 

6.  Here  all  enter, — servants,  Uncle  John, 
and  Aunt  Susan.     Pantomime. 

7.  Motley  collection  of  people  present  Un- 
cle John  receiving  the  lawyer. 

8.  The  doctor's  entrance. 

9.  The   grouo   around   the   table.     During 


208  HOW    TO    ILLUSTRATE 

this  part  of  the  story  Uncle  John  and  the 
guests  follow  its  course  in  pantomime. 


The  Tramps'  Christmas  Eve, 
I. 

The  interior  of  the  living  room:  an  old 
man  at  the  right  of  the  fireplace,  an  old  wo- 
man on  the  left,  in  old-fashioned  chairs;  a 
young  woman  by  a  table  sewing. 

Pantomime  to  follow  as  the  story  is  read: 

1. — Sadness  of  the  three. 

2. — Mary  weeping. 

3. — They  turn  toward  each  other  as  the 
farmer  speaks. 

4. — The  knock  at  the  door  —  change  of 
position. 

II. 

Entrance  of  the  three  servants,  Betty,  Mi- 
chael, and  Jonas.  Awkward  bowing  and 
scraping.  Unfolding  of  the  petition.  Per- 
mission given.     Joy  of  the   servants.     Exit. 


THE    STORIES.  209 

III. 

The  interior  of  the  old  kitchen.  The  ser- 
vants having  a  merry  time. 

Pantomime  follows  the  course  of  the  story. 
During  the  ghost  story  gestures  of  terror,  etc. 
At  the  knocking  at  the  door  all  start  up,  etc. 

IV. 

Enter  the  two  tramps. 
Follow   in   pantomime   the   course   of  the 
story. 

The  entrance  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Warren  and 
Mary. 

Group  themselves  to   watch   the  duncing. 
Pantomime  follows  the  course  of  the  fltory. 

VI. 

Here  all  rise  excitedly. 
Mary  rushes  to  him  and  falls  dow:.  at  hia 
feet. 


The  Belated  Christmas  Guests. 
1.  Tableau.     A  group  around  a  wood  fire 
(a  pile  of  wood  with  red  paper  to  represent 


210  HOW    TO    ILLUSTRATE 

the  flames  will  do),  torn  pieces  of  white  pa« 
per  scattered  around  will  represent  the  snow. 

2.  Entrance  of  the  second  party,  wrapped 
up  with  cloaks,  etc.,  covered  with  snow,  look- 
ing very  tired. 

3.  All  grouped  together.  One  man  stand- 
ing, book  in  hand.  At  intervals  all  sing  some 
Christmas  carols. 

4.  A  shout  outside,  all  startled,  rise  to 
their  feet.     Enter  Farmer  Larch. 


Bobert  Bounce. 

1.  Enter  Robert  Kounce  as  described. 

2.  Enter  Dick  Lay. 

3.  Group  of  merry  children. 

4.  Bob  and  the  children  on  their  way  to 
the  woods. 

5.  Their  return  with  the  evergroena. 
6    Carol  singing. 

7.  Children  separate. 

8.  Soft  music. 

9.  Children  rush  out  to  meet  him. 
10.  Bob  on  his  way  home 


THE    STORIES.  211 


11.  At  work.     Carpenters,  etc. 

12.  More  workmen  come  on. 

13.  Singing. 
14  Chorus. 


The  Crew  of  the  Sea  GuU. 

1.  Imitations  outside  of  the  whistling  and 
moaning  of  the  storm. 

2.  The  crew  huddled  together.  The  sand- 
bank may  be  represented  by  canvas  cast  over 
chairs,  etc.  Turn  the  lights  down.  Scatter 
pieces  of  white  paper  to  represent  snow. 

3.  A  chorus  outside  singing  a  carol.  The 
crew  join  in  with  them. 

4  The  two  parties  rush  back  and  forth 
across  the  stage. 

5.  Enter  the  old  clergyman. 

6.  Here  sing  a  number  of  carols.  Singers 
concealed,  or  else  represent  the  interior  of  a 
chapel. 


212  •       HOW    TO    ILLUSTRATE 

Aunt  Kittys  Christmas  Tree. 

1.  Tableau.  Interior  of  a  room.  Old  wo- 
man in  chair  sewing.  Two  cats  on  rug  be- 
fore her. 

2.  The  same.  A  few  boys  and  girls  very 
plainly  dressed  peeping  around  the  room — 
then  standing  before  her  as  if  questioning 
her. 

3.  Interior  of  a  shop.  Quaint  old  man 
behind  counter.  Aunt  Kitty  buying  toys. 
Clarence  watching. 

4.  Interior  of  room  again.  Three  boys  as 
if  questioning  her. 

5.  The  three  boys  trimming  the  Christmas 
tree — then  hiding  themselves  out  of  sight  in 
closet. 

6.  Aunt  Kitty  and  the  dozen  or  so  of  chil- 
dren looking  in  amazement  at  the  Christmas 
tree. 

7.  Clarence  rolling  out  on  the  floor.  The 
surprise  of  all. 

8.  The  room  filled  with  people,  each  hav 
ing  something  for  Aunt  Kitty.  Aunt  Kitty's 
entrance  with  the  poor  children. 


THE    STORIES.  213 

Reuben  Revbenson. 

1.  Tableau.  A  gray -haired  man,  in  an  arm- 
chair before  an  open  fire.  A  frame -work 
of  canvas  or  paper  painted  may  be  used  to 
represent  an  old-fashioned  fireplace.  Cos- 
tume, any  old-fashioned  suit.  Attitude,  in- 
tent watching  the  fire. 

2.  Burst  of  music  outside.  Concealed  cho- 
rus behind  curtains,  or  in  another  room.  One 
verse  sung  merrily.  Then  pause  as  reader 
goes  on.  Old  man  imitates  the  movements 
described  by  the  reader,  first  looking  into 
the  chimney,  then  going  to  window. 

3.  Here  may  be  sung  any  familiar  carols. 
Two  verses  of,  say,  two  carols,  in  rapid 
succession 

4.  A  couple  more  carols  in  same  way. 

-  5.  Music  sung  more  and  more  faintly,  as 
if  the  singers  were  passing  down  the  street. 

6.  Sing  very  gently,  simply  hum  the  tune. 

7.  Old  man  asleep  in  chair.  Santa  Claus 
comes  down  chimney,  walks  about,  then 
passes  out. 

8.  A  curtain  concealing  ChnstmaB  tree  is 


214   HOW  TO  ILLUSTRATE  THE  STORIES. 

withdrawn.     This   tableau,    in    small   room, 
could  be  omitted. 

9.  One  or  two  verses  of  the  old  hymn 
"  Adeste  fideles,"  sung  slowly  by  concealed 
chorus.  At  end  of  this  the  old  man  need 
not  appear  again.  Draw  curtains.  Or  imi- 
tate the  actions  described  by  the  reader  and 
have  the  old  man  pass  out  when  the  reader 
describes  his  going  to  church. 

10.  Imitate  the  tolling  of  a  church  bell, 
either  upon  piano,  or  by  means  of  a  bell 
outside. 


The  Christmas  Chimes. 
Imitations  of  ringing  the  changes  on  the 
bells,  and  carols  can  be  played  on  che  piano 
during  the  reading  of  the  first  chapter,  and 
at  the  end  of  the  whole  story. 


Gaining  by  Losing. 
The  contrast  between  the  condition  of  the 
family  in  affluence   js.'1  in  poverty  m<vy  ba 
iih^tn-ited. 


>Fw»  mk 


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